


The Whiskey Is Too Strong

by PrettyPurplePea



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: :))), Gen, Ghosts, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 19:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyPurplePea/pseuds/PrettyPurplePea
Summary: Danny is the new, talented, lead singer of Hollywood Undead. His first tour should have been calm and easy, but he would've never guessed he would meet the 'person' he did.You can't trust anyone, not even the people you think are doing right.Dark, buried secrets come to light which will reveal not everyone is as innocent as they seem. Blood and tears have been spilled but who isreallyin the wrong?





	1. Welcome to Hollywood Undead.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start and boy, do I have some things planned. Please comment what you think of it.
> 
> 1252 words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start and boy, do I have some things planned. Please comment what you think of it. 1252 words.
> 
>  
> 
> Written: 17th of September 2017

“Jorel?”

“‘ello.”

“Aron?”

“Here.”

“Dylan?”

“Wassup?”

“Matthew?”

“Mm”

“Jordon?”

“Here!”

“And Danny?”

“Here.”

It was four in the morning and cold. Nobody particularly wanted to be here.

Hollywood Undead were about to start their American Tragedy tour with their new addition to the band:

Danny. 

Danny was a talented, young singer who was chosen to be the new addition to the band. He met Dylan at a party and became good friends with him. Then, a week after the party, he was introduced to everyone else, all his friendships with them coming very naturally. Danny was accidently caught singing one day by Dylan and, well, one thing led to another and the next thing he knew was that he was the second lead singer of Hollywood Undead. His first official album with HU was American Tragedy, which was luckily a great hit with the fans. They all accepted him like he had been there since start, and, boy, did it boost his confidence. The only reason they wanted a 6th member was because they felt like 5 was too little, they said it was almost like the 6th person was…

_Missing…_

Danny got along with everybody, even the antisocial Matthew. Danny had a particular liking towards Jorel, the man’s great sense of humour along with his self-deprecating jokes made him extremely likable in Danny’s eyes. One thing bothered Danny though, Aron would not leave Jorel alone.

It was like the two of them were stuck to each other with superglue, not being able to separate even in the most dire of situations. Everyone knew that Aron and Jorel were very close, the two knowing each other since childhood but still, that didn’t excuse anything. They always seemed secretive about something, but no one knew what. The rest of the band had pestered them to know but all attempts were rejected, neither of the men spilling the mystery they were so protective of.

“Alright, you're all here.” The tour manager ticked something on the notepad clutched in his shaking hands. “Now, all of you, get on to the bus. Make yourself comfortable, we have a long ride a head of us.”

Danny picked up his duffle bag, wiping his eyes with his hand and yawned. He was tired like the others, probably more actually. He'd spent the majority of the night doing extra packing but mostly he was trying to calm down his 6-month old daughter. She was a sweetheart and she was the thing that kept his world spinning but she just couldn’t be quiet for more than 10 minutes, which was annoying at times.

Danny made his way to the tour bus door, a sigh escaping his lungs. A sudden but somewhat-comforting hand touched his shoulder. Danny glanced towards the person, feeling his own eyes and eyelids sticking together with exhaustion. 

“Welcome to Hollywood Undead.” The tour manager gave a weak smile before letting go.

Danny gave him a smile back, “Thanks.” and walked in, the smell of B.O already hitting him.

He threw his bags on the small table attached to the wall and yawned again, stretching his arms in the process. Jordon just about caught his attention, the smallest flopping down onto the small, two-seater sofa.

“I can't believe that they made us wake up at 3am!” Jordon groaned, covering his face with his tattooed hands.

“You think you had it hard? I was the one who had to drag you out of bed!” Dylan snarled. “Even Randi couldn't pull your fat-ass out of bed.”

“I need my beauty sleep.” Jordon smiled cheekily, moving his hands to his chest while shutting his eyes, his body relaxing.

Danny smiled, hopefully this tour wouldn't be _too_ nightmarish.

“Shouldn't we sort out our bunks?” Matthew barged into the conversation, the dark rings around his eyes extremely prominent.

“Yes!” Jordon shot up in an instant, excitement gleaming in his blue eyes. 

The blue-eyed man practically threw his bags into the hallway before diving into one of the bunks, a loud crash admitting from the room. Everyone laughed and even Matthew gave a smile before following him in, everyone else doing so in pursuit. Jorel stood next to Danny as they walked, Jorel giving Danny a cheeky grin.

“You seem happy.” Danny commented before they stopped in the middle of the hall.

“I drank 4 cups of coffee.” Jorel replied, looking for his bunk.

Danny done the same, noticing the bunk in the middle (or bunk 3) of the middle row on the left side was completely empty. Strange to say the least. People had even picked the bottom row or top row over this one perfect, empty bunk. Danny might as well take it for himself then.

“Can I sleep in this one?” Danny walked right in front of the bunk and looked in. No one had even bothered to put a blanket of sorts in there.

“You really want to sleep in there?” Danny turned his head as he saw Dylan sitting across from him, in the bunk opposite. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Danny raised an eyebrow, placing his bag on the floor.

Dylan and Jorel started giggling, Jorel now in the bunk next to Dylan’s.

“It’s haunted.”

“Don’t give me the whole _‘tHeRe’S a GhoSt!!!’_ story. I’m not falling for it.” Danny narrowed his eyes and sat on the edge of the ‘haunted’ bunk.

“No, no, no! It really is!” Dylan grinned, not selling it to Danny.

“Fine, tell me about it then.” Danny crossed his arms in annoyance.

“That bunk is eerily cold. Everyone who has slept in there gets the chills and shivers for the whole night, no matter how hot it is outside.”

_“Everyone?”_

“Yes! Everyone in Hollywood Undead has slept in that bunk and we all had the same experiences! It is deadly cold in there, and it feels like someone is constantly watching you. You also get these horrible nightmares of being murdered! Only Aron had a different nightmare, and he saw a dark figure standing in a foggy area, just staring at him before he woke up!” Dylan looked like he was telling a campfire story, the way he was moving his hands really evolving the story for Danny.

“Bullshit.” Danny leaned down and opened up his bag, dragging out a large, cozy, grey, fluffy blanket.

“Fine. If you don’t believe me, then sleep in there for the night, then tell me what you think!”.

“No, Danny is not sleeping in there.” Jorel butted into the conversation, eyes narrowed.

“He’s just being a downer! Go on, Danny, I _dare_ you.”

“Fine.” Danny pushed another blanket into the bunk. “I will.”

Jorel let out a sad sigh. “Good luck…” He muttered before turning his back to Danny, shutting his curtain. 

“Good luck, as well.” Dylan cackled, pulling his curtain shut like Jorel did.

Danny scoffed and rolled his eyes, lying down, shutting his curtain and pulling the blankets over his body.

“Good night- I mean morning.” He heard Dylan’s voice mumbled.

“Have a nice sleep, Danny.” Jorel’s voice then followed.

 _'They’re joking, ghosts aren’t real, right?'_ Danny shut his eyes.

It felt like ice was nipping at Danny’s feet, it slowly freezing his legs from the inside out. He shivered, wrapping the blankets tighter around his body.

 _'I’m imagining it, it’s just a coincidence.'_ Danny wrapped his arms around his chest, his arms twitching as it felt like fingers were being pushed into his skin. 

Darkness suddenly swarmed his vision, the cold disappearing. It was relief which calmed Danny at first, but he really didn’t know what he was just about to get into…


	2. Darkness, light, death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1497 words. Shits going down son! This is were paranormal stuff will start to happen, so enjoy
> 
> Written: 23rd of September 2017

Darkness, light, death.

Danny didn't know where he was or who he was.

He was in a house, that was obvious.

The wall paper had been lazily stripped, large, reddy-brown stains splattered, well, over every inch of the visible walls. There was minimal furniture, only a chipped, wooden stand with 2 photo frames on it, the photos too far away for Danny to see. The carpet was a dusty, red mahogany and no windows were in sight. A pair of large, dirty, long, black running shoes were stationed near the stair case. 

He turned his head to the left to try and look up the stairs, his imagination going wild at what could be lurking up there. He squinted his eyes, trying his best to make out any figures or objects but it was too dark, intriguing Danny even more than before. 

What was up there? _Who_ was up there? 

He’d _probably_ never find out.

Danny looked back to where he was before, taking in the unkept scenery. He started to walk forward, spotting a light switch before turning it on, revealing a kitchen.

It was small, cramped, and, like everything else, was filled to the brim with grime and litter. Other than that, it looked like a normal, simple kitchen. Out of everything in there, an open draw caught his attention. He wandered over - it was a cutlery draw. 

_'Oh,'_ Danny looked closer, his eyes scanning all around at the unusually placed items.

On the counter above, a long, clean, sharp knife was planted there, instantly startling Danny. In this hell hole, why would it be so clean and placed there on purpose? Everything was chucked and dirty, was there someone else here? He took a step back, an unwanted and sickening feeling entering his stomach for some reason.

Something wasn’t right…

No.

Something was terribly wrong.

Danny could only think of one exit.

The door.

He sprinted over to it, yanking the handle as hard as he could, shaking it frantically. 

It wouldn’t open.

No matter what he done, it just wouldn’t budge.

Vomit was creeping up his throat, sweat gushing like a waterfall down his forehead. Danny walked back, glancing into the kitchen once more.

The knife was gone…

The knife was gone!

Danny whipped his head round to try and find any other exits.

Nothing.

He felt like his heart was about the explode, it smashing against his fragile ribcage.

Danny turned around again to see a shadowy, small, lanky, skinny figure standing behind him. The knife was gripped tightly in the man’s bony hand, a malicious gleam plastered in his deep brown eyes.

Before a scream could erupt from Danny’s throat, the man lunged at him, the knife glistening in the faint light before it sunk deep into his neck-

“AHHHHHHHHHH!” Danny sat up, eyes widened with fear.

His breaths were deep, frantic and unsteady, his chest looking massive every time he took a gasp for air.

What happened? Was that the nightmare they warned him about? Was this the nightmare they all saw?

Danny still hadn’t calmed down, his head feeling like it was about to explode. So much happened in such a small amount of time, he just couldn’t understand or comprehend it.

A large sigh came from him, Danny shutting his eyes in an attempt to calm his erratic breathing.

He was alive… he wasn’t dead… nothing was wrong and it all was just a nightmare, right?

Wait, the nightmare… the ghost!

Memories of last night flashed through Danny’s brain.

 _'You also get these horrible nightmares of being murdered!'_ Dylan’s clear voice rung throughout his head, causing Danny to scoff.

It was just a coincidence, ghosts aren’t real! It was just a nightmare, nothing more and nothing less. Who would believe such a thing? It’s like believing in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy-

Giggling struck his ears, anger immediately entering Danny.

He ripped the curtain open, grabbing his pillow and launching it towards the source of the noise, both Jordon and Dylan letting out a childish scream.

The two men sprinted off, their mocking laughs still hitting his sensitive ears. There was no point in getting angry about it, they were just messing around, as usual. It was morning anyway, they were like a wakeup call for Danny.

He hopped out of his bunk, stretching out his long, muscular torso.

It was best to make sure the two idiots weren’t stirring up anything, so he followed them into the front room. 

Everyone was there, including the tour manager. He was trying to tell the band something but no one was listening. Aron was sitting next to Jorel on the small couch, the two talking amongst themselves. Matthew had planted himself on the floor, legs crossed and staring deeply at his phone. Jordon and Dylan were leaning against the wall, laughing but to only stop when Danny walked in.

Matthew looked up at Danny from his phone. “Nice pyjamas.”

Danny felt his cheeks go red, forgetting he was in his lion onesies. You can’t blame him for wearing them, they were soft and warm and he has had them for years. It was a gift from his wife, she was the only one knowing his obsession with the creatures.

“Thanks.” Danny tried to hide his feelings.

“Awww, is someone a bit embarrassed?” Jordon’s voice sent the whole room into quietness.

“N-no! It’s just hot! That’s all…” Danny rushed over the window, pulling it up to let the cold air in. “Ha-ha, I feel better already!” He awkwardly said, walking back to the door frame.

Jorel smiled at Danny, Aron whispering something to him. His smile immediately fell, his attention going back to Aron.

Danny sighed. If they were going to be like this for the whole tour, fine, only if their friendship wouldn’t get in the way of the band or any of the concerts. 

Everyone soon returned to what they were doing, not taking notice of Danny anymore.

Danny stared out the window, gazing at the passing roads. There were no trees or vegetation, just long roads that seemed to go on forever. A frown entered Danny’s face. It was weird, he was so used to being around nature at home that this just seemed like he was thrown out into the middle of nowhere.

The bus came to a halt at some traffic lights, no one really taking notice of it. There was nothing interesting going on but something caught his eye.

A bright, blue and black butterfly fluttered through the window, everyone going deathly silent. It went over to Aron, landing subtly on his tattooed hand. He narrowed his eyes, a look of disgust entering them.

“Who would want butterflies on their hands, that’s gay.” He used his other hand to smack the butterfly, its remains leaking on to his skin.

“Aron!” Jorel snarled at the skinny man, his own fists clenching tightly. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” He wiped the remains of the butterfly on the side of the seat. “Come on, you know _he’d_ have laughed at it.”

Jorel stared at Aron, anger swimming in his rotten-brown eyes. Aron looked away from Jorel, trying to not look in his direct gaze. 

“Anyway!” Aron tried to move the conversation along, “Why don’t we all have a beer or-.”

“No. You’re not drinking beer at this time of the morning. Just have some coffee.” The tour manager interrupted him.

“Ugh…” Aron still ignored Jorel, crossing his arms defensively.

“Alright, now that you’re all quiet.” The tour manager pulled out a list from his pocket. “We are traveling for most of the day. We will have a couple of stops but not too many. It’s also meant to rain today, so get comfortable.”

“Ughhhh…” Everyone joined in on this one, no one looking forward for the boredom about to ensue.

\----4 Hours Later----

As expected, everyone was bored out of their minds.

Danny was now dressed, Aron and Jorel were talking again, Matthew was in his bunk and Jordon was waiting for Dylan to come back.

This was their first stop of the journey and Dylan had left with the tour manager to get food for all of them and to maybe look in some shops. He’ll probably come back with something old, the area that they had entered looking like the 60’s.

The bus door slammed open, Dylan running inside.

“Guess what! Guess what!” He shouted, jumping up and down like a small child.

“Calm down…” Aron hushed him, looking annoyed

“Guess!” Dylan had a beaming smile on his face.

“I don’t know.” Jordon raised an eyebrow, noticing that he was hiding something behind his back.

Dylan let out a laugh, pulling a game-board type box from behind his back.

Everyone got up and leaned in, shock entering all of their faces.

The box had printed on it,

**O U I J A B O A R D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you think of that? Good cliff hanger?


	3. They will never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1634 words, longest chapter so far. enjoy
> 
>  
> 
> Written: 14th of October 2017

“NO!” 

“Why not? Come on, Aron! You’re not a pussy, are you?” Dylan sneered, mocking the skinny man.

Aron’s face screwed up with disgust, his eyes narrowing. “No, I’m not. It’s just a bad idea.” 

“Mmmm, definitely.” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Look, I got this so we could talk to the ghost in the bunks.” Dylan took the lid off the box, dust bursting out at him.

Danny looked in, a thin board being revealed. It really looked like something you would find in your great-great-great grandmother’s attic, dirt imbedded deep into the wood but weirdly, all the markings on the board were glass-clear, no grime covering the letters.

“Yeah, like the ghost will definitely talk to us.” Jordon rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“It will be a good laugh though!” Dylan turned his head to Jordon and grinned, looking very excited.

“No, we shouldn’t.” Matthew’s voice was stern and serious.

“Why not?” Danny asked, agreeing with Dylan that it would be fun.

“Once you interact with a ghost, they will never leave.” Matthew looked down at the ground. “They can take full control of your life and they will _never_ let go of you.”

Everyone went silent, a tense atmosphere entering the room.

 

.

 

.

 

.

Everyone burst out laughing, leaving Matthew feeling horribly embarrassed.

“Y-you can listen to me or not, but I’m just warning you!” Matthew stormed out the room, everyone nearly in tears. “Don’t blame me if your lives get _ruined!_ ”

“ _Don’t blame me if your lives get ruined!_ ” Jordon took the mickey, sticking his tongue out.

“What a dweeb.” Aron muttered, sitting back on the seat he was sitting on before he stood up.

“You can talk!” Dylan snapped at Aron, walking over to the fridge.

“Look, let’s just do it another day. Not everyone is here anyway, it’s not like we can do it with _some_ of the band missing.” Aron scoffed, rolling his brown eyes.

Danny frowned. He wanted to see if that ‘ghost’ would respond, maybe another day?

“Danny, this will be your first concert with the band.” Aron’s voice caught his attention. 

“Yeah…” Danny walked over to Aron, sitting down next to him, memories of a minute ago instantly leaving his mind.

“The first place we are touring at, it’s quite big.” Aron smiled to himself, Danny raising an eyebrow. “I feel sorry for you, that’s not really the place you want to start off when- “

“I’ve toured before with my old band.” Danny cut in, protecting his honour.

“Oh, I know that, I’m just saying that you should be prepared. This concert is the largest one we have ever done, so it’s an anxious moment for us as well.” His eyes glanced towards the bunks, a hint of fear suddenly flickering in them. “T-the tour manager might have some photos…”

“I do.” He nodded. “Aron, I left them in your bunk as you kept talking about it this morning. Never knew the cockiest of the band could be so worried.” The tour manager muttered the last bit.

“Oh.” Aron looked down, thoughts racing through his mind. “Danny!” Aron chucked one of his own hands on to Danny’s shoulder. “Can you go in my bunk and grab the photos? They should just be on my bed.”

“Sure?” Danny was confused why he looked so worried but he ignored it.

He stood up and wandered off into the bunks; looking around. 

Danny didn’t understand why Aron was so worried about this concert, it was just more people and nothing else. He was told that Aron wasn’t a big fan of preforming for whatever reason, but he never knew it was this bad!

A feeling of somebody watching him suddenly struck Danny, making him look up. A figure was standing at the end of the hallway.

“Hey-“ Danny stopped talking, realising he didn’t recognise who it was.

They were tall, their massive frame easily able to tower over him. He had large, broad shoulders and muscles that shaped his faint outline. Danny knew there was no way he would be able to fight him, in fact, probably none of them could, Dylan being the only one to get somewhat of a fair chance due to the similar heights. Shadows danced around the man, blocking any colour getting close to him, leaving the figure in a pure darkness, only outlined by a-

Wait… those _couldn’t_ be shadows, the lights were on!

Danny took a step back in caution, squinting to try and see if he could see the ‘intruder’ any clearer.

. 

.

.

Nothing.

His mouth went horribly dry, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. A large shiver went flying down his spine, his body frozen to the spot. 

What could he say?

Should he cry for help?

He tried to open his mouth to scream but nothing came out, his throat seeming to be glued together. Danny quickly gave up on the call, maybe if he didn’t move they wouldn’t attack him.

.

.

.

This wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

Danny looked the man up and down again, something suddenly catching his attention.

Those eyes.

They were as cold as ice, anger swarming in them like a cluster of wasps. Those pupils could have easily sliced Danny in half, that sharp gaze sending fear throughout him.

 _This wasn’t a good idea…_ Danny tensed up.

 **"DANNY."** It’s deep, rough voice called his name.

“aaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Danny shot out of there, sprinting into the front room as fast as his legs could take him.

“Danny? What’s happened?” Actual concern was present in Aron’s voice as he stood up, looking around urgently.

He stopped running, pushing himself up against the wall, Dylan rushing over to him.

“What was it?”

“T-t-there was a person out there! He wasn’t meant to be there!” Danny looked up at Dylan, shaking madly.

Fury entered Dylan’s eyes, scaring Danny even though he knew it wasn’t targeted towards him. Armed with his wiffle ball bat, Dylan stormed out into the bunks, ready to fight.

Jorel approached Danny, placing a cold hand on his shoulder. “Danny? You alright?” 

Danny shook his head, eyes widened and strained. “I think I shit myself.” He whispered in low voice.

Jorel ignored his comment and took him over towards the sofa, shoving Aron on to the floor. 

“Oi!” Aron yelled as he rolled away.

“We should report that bloke for breaking in, what did he look like?” Jorel placed himself next to Danny, wrapping an arm around the shivering man.

“He was taller than any of us, a-and stronger! H-he had these glowing eyes! I don’t think Dylan will be able to-“

“Danny, there’s no one out there.” 

“No, no, no, no!” Danny slammed his hands down onto his seat.” There was!”

“Danny, calm.” Jorel frowned.

“I looked all around but all I found was Matthew scared to death.” Dylan leaned the wiffle ball bat against the wall.

“He was out there! I know he was!” Danny screamed, hugging himself tightly.

Dylan, Jorel and Aron glanced at each other, worried.

“Danny.” Jorel made Danny look up. ”Let’s go to your bunk.”

Danny softly nodded, realising that they would never believe him. Both of the men crept into bunks, Jorel dead behind him. They reached the ‘haunted bunk’, the pair sitting down on to the fuzzy grey blanket. 

“Try getting some sleep.”

“But- “

“You had a nightmare last night, you'll be tired.”

“I’m not- “

Jorel gave him a stern stare. “You’re probably worrying about the concert, Aron wasn’t really describing it in the best of ways.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to give him a good talking to…”

Danny ignored the way Jorel’s eyes clouded over as he said the last bit, he was caring more about his own problems for the time being. “There was something there, I know there was.” Danny lied down, Jorel standing up and watching him.

“If you say so.” Jorel ruffled Danny’s hair before quickly walking off, a weak smile planted on the Italian man’s face.

Danny was about to complain but kept his mouth shut, confused why he wanted to leave so quickly.

He knew Jorel was interested in supernatural stuff, so why was he so hesitant to get away from Danny? Jorel must have known that Danny was going to talk about it, why did he leave?

Danny narrowed his eyes, pushing his body deeper into his soft mattress.

He knew he saw something, nothing could explain it. All the lights were on so no shadows could be casted and if they were just shadows, the directions wouldn’t make sense! 

Nothing added up – the nightmare, the shadow, the voice…

Something deep inside of Danny was screaming at him that something was wrong, begging him to get up and leave but he just couldn’t bring himself to it. This was the job he chose and he couldn’t just back out of it because he was getting a little spooked, he simply couldn’t abandon his band. 

Danny turned on to his side, looking out of his bunk.

“Should’ve shut the curtains.” He muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

Peace and relief somewhat conquered his fears for now, even though he continued to open his eyes and peer around every five-minutes-or-so, never seeing anyone.

But, the last time he checked…

The last time he checked was because he felt someone watching him.

He looked up, his eyesight quickly fading.

Danny couldn’t specifically recall what he saw, all the memories of the pain blurred in his mind by now, but what he did remember…

A large, tall shadow was leaning over him, a pair of cold, blue eyes watching Danny drift off into his awaiting slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did u think of that? I have nothing better to say at the moment I really couldn't end this chapter that well


	4. Just get over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1373 words. This was meant to be the Halloween chapter but the next chapter is better suited so I'll release this one early.
> 
> Written: 22nd of October 2017

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A scream erupted from Danny’s throat as the knife sliced deep into his neck. 

His airways instantly were blocked- silencing the poor man. His eyes shot open, fear paralysing him as he only saw darkness covering everything in front of him. Is this what death felt like, horribly cramped and small? 

Danny moved one of his hands out to the side of him, feeling something hard, maybe wood?

Wait- that meant…

He was fine; he was in his bunk.

Danny sat up, looking around the unlit area. A nightmare, again? This was the second time in only the second night.

He placed one of his hands over his neck, slightly pushing his fingers down to check there were no stab wounds.

Danny only felt his warm skin.

 _'This better not be a regular thing'…_ Danny sighed before rubbing his eyes and yawning. He was getting sick of this already, hopefully it wouldn’t last all tour. The worst part of it was that it wasn’t even a bearable nightmare- the feeling of being stalked and then killed didn’t really stroke him the right way and probably never would.

Letting out another large sigh, he pulled his phone out from beside him, the light illuminating his face as he turned it on. 

It was 5:32pm.

 _'I haven’t been sleeping for that long then,'_ Danny stretched his arms out in front of him, a small click coming from both of his elbows.

He sighed again, letting out a long groan as he realised that he _really_ needed to change his bunk if he wanted a chance of the nightmares to stop. Danny stood up and grabbed all of his blankets, throwing them into the one below Dylan’s.

 _'Oh, it’s still facing the bunk,'_ Danny narrowed his eyes, _'at least I’m not in it.'_

He knelt down and fixed his blankets, making it look all neat again. He dragged his bag over and leaned it against the side of the bunk, kicking his shoes closer as well.

Danny stood back up and looked up and down the hallway, wondering where the others were. Talking was coming from both rooms, so it was a 50/50 chance of joining the excitement club or the downer’s club, knowing the guys in the band.

He picked the back room and made his way over in a stealth like fashion, hoping not to be heard.

 _'I could try and make them jump- that’ll be a good way to play off my screaming as me just messing around,'_ Danny grinned, his inner child starting to spark back to life after _recent_ events.

He pushed his body up against the bunks, making sure he couldn’t be seen when you look out the hallway. 

There were only two people talking, their voices serious and stern.

“Aron, it’s been 7 years since he-” The first voice cracked with pain, forcing the man to stop talking. “ _-left_. 7 years- “

“Oh, come on, Jorel!” Aron’s voice was filled with a hateful venom. “Just get over him.”

 _'What’s this all about?'_ Danny thought, moving closer to the door frame, peeking his head around the corner. Jorel and Aron were standing in front of each other, both men visibly not looking pleased.

“He was my friend, my best friend!” Jorel almost shouted, tears sitting in the corners of his eyes.

“What about me!” Aron thrusted his face up into Jorel’s, trying to make himself look bigger. 

“I- I care about you as well, but you know me and him had a good relationship and we’ve always had- “

“You two were always arguing about the smallest of things! He was a manipulative monster that made sure his punching bag, _you_ , would not leave!” Aron snarled, clenching his fists tightly.

“HE WASN’T!” Jorel screamed, his shoulders tensing. “You always judged him on the things he done, not what he was actually like!”

“You act like he is an innocent angel who done nothing wrong! He was the reincarnation of evil itself- end of discussion.” Aron snapped.

Jorel looked shocked but didn’t reply, only giving Aron the filthiest of looks.

“I know you still have his hoodie!” Aron pointed one of his bony fingers at Jorel’s chest. “You always carry the skanky thing round with you!”

Jorel’s eyes widened. “Have you been through my bags?” His eyes quickly narrowed, Aron ignoring his question.

“You’re obsessed with- “

“You’re the one obsessed with me!” Jorel looked like he was about to punch Aron.

Aron scoffed, not denying it.

“Everyone! Front room!” Jordon’s voice interrupted their argument, Danny realising that they were about to catch him.

Danny darted towards the front room, praying they didn’t see him. Once he had reached the room, he violently swung around the corner, placing himself close to the cabinets which ran along the room.

Both Aron and Jorel quickly followed in, neither men talking or even looking at each other. Aron walked to the corner furthest away from Danny, Jorel doing the opposite by standing next to Danny. Danny flashed a smile at Jorel, the Italian man responding with a weak smirk.

“Why did you call us here?” Aron didn’t sound very happy.

“We finally set it up!” Jordon moved out the way, no longer blocking their view of what despicable thing him and Dylan had done.

Everyone could feel the rage now spitting off Aron.

“ _What_ did I say earlier.” The words of hate rolled off Aron’s tongue.

“Y-you thought it was a bad idea…” Jordon muttered, looking down at the floor with shame like he was a child being scorned by his parents.

“And only hours after I said that, what have you done?” 

“We… we’ve set the board up…” 

The Ouija Board has been set up, everything put in place. It was in the middle of the floor, the planchette also placed in the centre of the board. The lights had been turned off, candles had been lit and placed in a circle like manner around the board.

“No one listens to me!” Aron growled, crossing his skinny arms. 

“Maybe if you learnt how to keep your mouth shut when its needed then we would listen to you.” Jorel remarked.

Dylan snickered, catching Danny’s eye as Aron turned his nose up, actually listening to Jorel’s advice.

“Though,” Jorel walked over to the board, making sure he didn’t knock over the candles, “we still shouldn’t do this.” He picked it up by the sides, carrying it over to the counters where Danny was.

Danny watched him blow out all the candles and put them up there too, Danny specifically noticing that he placed the planchette dead in the middle of the board.

Jorel turned his attention away from the board, completely ignoring it. “I honestly think we shouldn’t mess around with the ghost, I don’t want my life to go down the drain because of a silly little game we are playing for a laugh.”

Dylan and Jordon rolled their eyes in sync, both men still not convinced. 

“I’m being serious.”

“We know.”

Jorel sighed, looking back round at the board, his eyes suddenly widening with fear.

“What are we going to do then?” Matthew was sitting on the floor, bouncing his leg up and down.

“I don’t know, Jorel and Aron think everything we want to do is bad.” Jordon looked down at the curly-haired man.

“You know we are still here and we can hear you?” Aron said in a nasty way, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who shit in your coffee this morning?” Jordon remarked.

“Umm, guys?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Aron raised his hands in the air, ignoring Jorel. “Maybe your fat-ass did!”

“Maybe you should brighten up a bit and realise the whole world doesn’t revolve around your petty little feelings!” Jordon was never normally like this, but two days of Aron had already sent him mad.

“Guys?”

“Maybe you should- “

“Guys!”

Everyone turned their attention to Jorel, the Italian man looking like he had seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, feeling like he is the only one slightly concerned.

“T-the board, the planchette...”

“What about it?”

“It’s moved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW! another rushed ending. Don't worry though, the next chapter is beefy with the spooks


	5. It was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2286 words. Uploading early cause y not and I cant wait for 5th November. Probably one of the longer chapters, enjoy
> 
> Written: 2nd of November 2017

“It’s moved.”

Everyone was stunned, silence quaking the room.

“Ha-ha,” Aron sarcastically replied, still pissed off with Jordon, “very funny, Jorel.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Someone’s a bit defensive.” The anger melted away in a matter of seconds, Aron’s tone being more snarky than angry.

“Someone’s a bit ‘Jekyll and Hyde.’” Dylan muttered, looking Aron up and down.

Aron stuck his tongue out in somewhat of a playful way, Danny relieved that everyone was finally calming down.

“You guys are such children!” Jordon mimicked Jorel’s voice.

“You can talk!” 

“Can we focus on the real problem?” Jorel pointed at the Ouija Board.

“What problem?” 

“THE THING MOVED!” Jorel shouted at Jordon.

“You probably nudged it when you turned around.” Dylan shrugged, Jorel now being the angry one instead of Aron.

Jorel had a look of defiance in his eyes. “I didn’t, I _know_ I didn’t.” Danny then saw a look of rage take over, something he had never seen before in Jorel.

“OooOOo!” Jordon made a stupid noise, Dylan joining in with him. 

They both looked at each other, bursting out laughing in unison. Jorel’s cheeks went red, his fists clenching as he bit his tongue. 

“I’m about to smack both of you.” He threateningly spoke. 

“OooOOo!” The two idiots were set off again into a large bundle of laughter, Jorel fuming even more.

“Come on, guys, shouldn’t we take this a bit more seriously?” Danny suggested.

“Hmm,” Jordon looked at the clock, pouting, “later, we only have 15 minutes to get to the venue and I don’t want to be running late.” Jordon made his way towards the door, looking back around at everyone else. “Y’all coming?”

“Later we’ll all be too drunk to care about it!” Jorel argued back but he was instantly ignored by the others.

Dylan smiled and followed Jordon out, grabbing Matthew as well and dragging him across the floor. Danny peered out the window, watching Dylan bring Matthew and Jordon closer to him, throwing his arms over both of their shoulders. He was whispering to them, both men giggling as he did. Dylan was most likely mocking Aron and Jorel, it wasn’t unusual for him.

Danny strained his ears, trying to listen in-

“He’s going to have the ‘ump the whole day!” 

“You bet!”

Aron also started to walk out, looking deeply concentrated in his thoughts. “You guys- “

“We’ll be out in a minute.” Danny cut him off.

Aron didn’t question Danny but looked sceptical, eventually turning back around and walking out, or, that’s what Danny thought he did.

Danny looked back round at Jorel. “What do you mean, ‘it’s moved’?” He somewhat whispered, still weary of Aron possibly being on the bus.

“The-the…” Jorel’s voice drifted off, the man suddenly looking confused. “What’s it called? The thing that moves around when you use the board?”

“The planchette?” 

“Yeah, that thing,” Jorel nodded, now calmer then he was before, “Anyway- it has somehow moved. I _know_ I didn’t move it and I _know_ I put it directly in the middle of the board.”

“I saw you put it in the middle of the board too.” Danny admitted, looking down at the ground as he thought, an absurd idea flashing in his mind. “Has it moved to anything in particular?”

“Yes.” Jorel turned his head towards the board, his eyes clouding over. “It’s at the ‘G’ now.”

“Oh,” Danny raised an eyebrow, evidence for his theory becoming stronger, “does that mean anything to you?”

Jorel paused, looking slightly uncomfortable, “It might do…”

“What, G for Ghost?” Danny snorted, trying to make light of the weird situation.

“NO.” Jorel snapped at Danny, baring his teeth, Danny took a step back in fear, shocked that the cute, _innocent_ Jorel could ever do such a thing.

Jorel’s expression quickly dropped though, looking sad once again. “I-I’m sorry.” 

“I should be the one apologising.” Danny pulled his classic puppy dog eyes, a small smile appearing on Jorel’s face. 

“Don’t worry.” Jorel sighed again, looking back at the Ouija Board, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say. 

“Me and Aron used to- “

“Jorel,” Jorel jumped out of his skin, whipping his head round to see who growled at him, “we _need_ to go.” Aron barged into their conversation on a sharp note, eyes narrowed.

Jorel looked like he was about to say something but was able to keep his mouth bolted shut, making his way over to Aron. Aron started whispering to Jorel, Danny barely able to hear what they were saying but he could just about make out some of it-

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t talk about him in front of the band.”

“I know but- “

“You don’t know. Just don’t do it again, please.”

Aron walked out but Jorel stopped just as he was about to leave, looking back at Danny. “You’re part of the band, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Danny approached Jorel, Jorel leaving as he got closer. 

_Strange,_ Danny jumped over the 3 steps that led the way off the bus, landing on the ground with a ‘thump’, _very strange indeed._

\----7 Hours Later----

Danny threw himself into his bunk, crashing straight into his warm blankets.

He buried his face into his pillow, the soft hood of his onesie pressing against his cold neck. It felt nice to finally lie down after such a long day, even though he did take a nap halfway through.

The concert went smoothly as spreading butter on toast. Danny didn’t mess up on any of his lines and no one else did either. All the fans looked happy to see him preform for the very first time, which of course made him very happy as well. It made Danny feel like he actually belonged, the thing that he wanted to most. The rest of the band was also in a joyful mood when preforming but something did catch his eyes. 

During the concert, Aron’s attitude weirdly changed for a good minute or two.

Once Danny had finish his chorus, he stood back to let Jordon take over with his verse. He glanced at Aron, the skinny man’s eyes wide open with fear. Aron was shaking, frozen to the spot. He dropped his microphone, no one else seeming to notice. Aron was staring at something, _someone_ on the small balcony above the crowd. Danny followed his eyes over to where Aron was looking at and he saw-

No one.

There was no one standing there.

Danny focused back on Aron, Aron shaking his head before kneeling down and picking his microphone, his eyes glazed over.

 _'What was all that about?'_ Danny raised an eyebrow but quickly pushed the event behind him, running towards the front of the stage to continue his chorus, his own eyes still glued to the balcony.

No one was there and that was the end of it but Danny swore for a split second he saw someone standing there, watching them with hateful eyes-

Danny rolled on to his back, the memory fading as he shut his eyes, his brain trying to focus on something else. Aron sometimes confused him but what could he do? He knew Aron had seen some things, as well as Jorel, but Danny knew there was no chance he would ever find out.

A cold breeze struck Danny’s body, forcing him underneath his covers. Danny started thinking more about what happened today.

The Ouija Board… why are both Aron and Jorel so hesitant to do it? They had nothing to lose after all and it would be a bit of fun! Maybe there was a greater reason to why they were refusing to do it… maybe-

Another flash of cold smacked him straight in his face, making his toes curl.

Danny pushed one of his blankets underneath him, still keeping his eyes shut.

What else happened earlier? Well, after they finished preforming, they all went out drinking. Again, it was fun and everyone else had fun- except Danny. Since Danny was new, he was in charge of making sure everyone got back to the bus some-what alive, so that meant he couldn’t get drunk. It was forbidden to even have one shot, which meant the only joy he got out of the night was watching the drunk fools stumble around, trying to get more drinks for free because they were ‘part of a big band!’ Aron and Jorel didn’t drink at all, both men just sitting by the bar, talking to each other constantly.

 _'God, they are REALLY weird,'_ Danny fluttered his eyes open, looking up at the bunk ceiling. ‘Why’ was a good question to start with, that’d probably answer the rest of his questions as well. Danny knew that the two had dabbled in drugs and gangs when they were younger- could it be to do with that? Well, if it was that then it wouldn’t really explain their behaviour. They mention an ‘old friend’ quite a lot when they’re arguing, maybe they had-

A chill went flying through his body, stopping his thoughts dead in their tracks.

He raised an eyebrow, an idea popping into his head. Danny threw the covers off his body, standing up straight and stretching. His plan was to just go and shut one of the windows in the front room but, oh boy, that did not go the way he wanted it to.

He made his way into the front room, his eyes darting around to look at all 4 windows.

Shut…

Shut…

Shut…

And shut.

Strange, to say the least. 

Danny doubled check, wondering if it was just his eyes messing up. 

They weren’t.

Danny shrugged it off. _'I’ll suffer through the cold then,'_ he turned around to walk back into the bunks, quickly stopping dead in his tracks.

 _It_ was there again, standing and staring at him.

Those cold blue eyes bored themselves into Danny, unblinking and sharply narrowed. The figure stood still like a lion stalking its prey, its shoulders tensed and eyes deeply focused.

Danny took a step back, the figure moving its head up slightly, widening their ghostly eyes, Danny spotting something strange on the figure’s neck. Danny couldn’t see it- nor did he want to.

He looked around the room, his throat disgustingly dry. A glass shining in the light caught his attention, a brownish-gold liquid sitting inside it. Danny instantly grabbed the glass, drinking whatever it was.

His face screwed up, immediately knowing what it was.

Whiskey.

He forced himself to swallow it, the strength of it burning his throat even more.

Danny hesitantly tilted his head back towards the bunk, his eyes unable to open for a second.

It was gone.

The shadow had just… disappeared. 

Danny suddenly grabbed the side of the counter, trying to focus as his vision went blurry. He felt like he was swaying from side-to-side, unable to stand straight. 

He needed to sit down, now.

Danny glanced around the room, the dizziness quickly taking over all of his brain. He spotted the chair next to the counter, almost flinging himself into it. He hung his head back, closing his eyes. At least if he fainted, he wouldn’t smash his head open on the floor. 

He couldn’t even scream- the point of the whiskey was to hydrate his throat, not to make it dryer then the Sahara Desert. 

Was the ‘ghost’ closer to him now? Was he going to finally rid him of his suffering?

Danny slightly opened his eyes, moving his head so it was up straight. His eyes darted around the room, not seeing anyone, though, he did spot something moving out the corner of his eye.

The Ouija Board.

Danny shuffled so he was sitting up and not slouching. He looked at the board, shitting himself as the planchette started to move. He pushed himself further into his seat, sweat dripping down his forehead.

He watched it closely, clearly being able to see what letters it was going to.

**H**

Danny gulped.

**E**

**L**

**L**

Danny was ready to jump out the window and nope out, clutching the side of the counter even harder, his body tingling with fear but also with excitement. He held his breath when he realised it wasn’t moving anymore, it hitting him that it just had spelled out **‘HELL.’**

It moved again.

**O**

Danny sighed, relaxing. Maybe Satan wasn’t on the bus after all.

The dizziness struck him again, his body swaying forward. Danny rested his head on the side of the counter, darkness spotting his vision at a rather alarming rate. He could barely hear his own breathing anymore, only the slight sound of footsteps audible.

He shut his eyes for a split second, only to force them back open. Danny wouldn’t black out now… no, he couldn’t.

As his consciousness was fading even more, one last thing came apparent in his decaying vision.

The figure was standing in front of him, it’s hands behind his large back. Those eyes watched Danny, Danny unable to pull his gaze away from the shadow. Danny had no strength to fight back, the only thing he could do was to watch him in the last couple of seconds of light.

You know, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, he may not have wanted to see it, but he finally saw what was on the figures neck.

Two bloody, wounds were imbedded deep in his throat, blood stained all over the skin. The shadow seemed to shine all of a sudden, the figure’s appearance changing. The darkness melted into the ground, clothes now visible. Dark jeans, an undone black jacket, and just as the man's face was about to be revealed-

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was that? Please talk to me in the comments, don't be scared I like talking. This will be the last chapter for a while, I'll probably take the month off and continue in December cause I have exams all next week and I need a break.


	6. Don't cry over spilt milk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2251 words. Next one should be out in January???
> 
>  
> 
> Written: 2nd of December 2017

“Danny…”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Danny…?” 

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“DANNY!”

Danny’s eyes flew open, the first thing the man seeing after his bizarre ‘dream’ was Aron’s horse-like face shoved right in front of his own. Danny turned his nose up, confused and disorientated. 

Aron took a large step back, placing his stick-like fingers on his hips. “Why are you sleeping here?”

“Oh,” Danny skimmed over last night’s memories, the image of those haunting blue eyes firmly emblazoned inside his mind. He couldn’t tell him, could he? “I was cold, so I came out to shut a window and I guess I fell asleep? We were out for a long time, so you can’t really blame me.”

The skinny man raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off with a loud, somewhat-disappointed huff. “You have a point; I’m surprised I’m not badly hungover myself.” He turned his back to Danny, rubbing his face as he made his way over to the other side of the bus. 

Danny let out a small yawn, now realising it was a charm that he didn’t drink his life away last night. 

Last night…

Last night!

He whipped his head round to the side, his heart pounding as he gazed into the hallway where the bunks were, staring deeply down the dark passage. He tried to focus his eyes and he saw…

.

.

.

Nothing.

Luckily, there was no sign of his old ghost friend being down there, so, that was a positive start to the day. 

Danny flashed a glance at the counter beside him, noticing that the planchette of the Ouija board was still placed on the **’O’** , making him shiver. The glass of whiskey was there as well. He picked it up, his stomach turning as he looked in.

Whiskey was one of the most vile things he had ever tasted, even the colour of it made him sick-

Wait… was that water?

He sloshed it around, watching the clear liquid dance up against the sides of the glass.

No, it was definitely whiskey last night! Danny could never mistake the pungent smell and bitter taste of the evil drink.

 _'Seems like I was the one drinking last night,'_ Danny placed the glass back down, sighing as he did so. 

That didn’t matter, it _wasn’t_ important. 

He looked around the room, trying to hunt down where everyone else was to try and distract his now confused thoughts. Jorel was sitting opposite him, headphones in with a bowl of cereal in his hands. He glanced at Danny and slightly smiled at him, dark rings drawn under his sweet brown eyes. Matthew was sitting beside him, once again, looking at his phone, clenching it tightly. Dylan was on the floor near the bunk entrance, stretching. It had become a routine now- sit on the floor, stretch his back, arms and legs before continuing the rest of the day.

Aron wandered over to the window, opening it up and taking a large breath of fresh air.

 _'Late hangover?'_ Danny wondered, tapping his foot on the floor.

Everything was peaceful and calm, the fresh air and bright sunlight really making a big difference to the rather dull room. It was just like they were in some well-rehearsed movie but, sadly, it was interrupted by-

“THESE STUPID BUTTERFLIES!” Aron smacked the black and blue butterfly with the force of a thousand gods, the side of his fist pinning it up against the cupboards as it was squished.

He forced all of his strength into the small action, his teeth gritted as the _poor_ critter’s blood stained his hand. Aron _really_ did have a weird thing for butterflies…

 _'Jesus'_ , Danny was taken aback by the amount of unnecessary violence, honestly shocked and confused on why Aron always acts in such an aggressive manner. There was no real important reason as far as he was concerned but that didn’t matter, the skinny man was now absolutely fuming, shoulders tensed and his breathing erratic.

Danny made the smart choice of trying to ignore him, not wanting another argument to start. He looked back round the room, trying to get back to what he was thinking about before Aron’s latest tantrum.

 _'I was actually enjoying the peace for once,'_ Danny rolled his eyes, _'I guess nice things are never meant last.'_

It was way too quiet, even for the mornings.

It felt like someone was missing…

They were missing… 

.

.

.

Just as it clicked on who it was-

“IM BACK.” Jordon burst through the bus door.

Everyone flinched, Jorel’s bowl of cereal flying out of his hands. It looked like it was falling in slow motion, the milk floating on top of the brown carpet. The Lucky Charms he was eating scattered like confetti at a wedding and a large, ear-piercing crack spread across the bowl, the fragile china crashing to the ground.

With the spoon still in his hand, a large droplet of milk dripped off the metal surface, landing on his favourite black skinny jeans. Jorel’s mouth was wide open with shock, his eyes boring into his now-empty hands. “My cereal!”

Matthew gave it a quick glance. “Don’t cry over spilt milk.” The curly-haired man muttered, placing his precious phone into his lap.

“But my cereal!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you lunch or something.” Jordon shrugged, pulling out a cheap-looking plastic bag from behind his back.

“You better.” Jorel snarled as Jordon walked over to the counter.

Jordon pulled out some coffee sachets, a couple bottles of beer and a pack of cigarettes. He then pulled out a brightly coloured, girl’s magazine.

“Hey, Dilly, I got what you asked for.” Jordon launched the rolled magazine across the room, Dylan barely able to catch it.

He had a confused look before he opened it up. It took Dylan a moment to understand before a large, beaming smile crept on to his face as he quickly realised what it was and what he had to do. He raced out the room while laughing his ass off. Jordon smiled, everyone else raising an eyebrow as a girly giggle could be heard arising from the bunks.

“What was that?” Aron snapped, eyebrows furrowed. 

“None of your bees-wax.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aron took that as threat, like Jordon was trying to belittle him. “Are you underestimating me- “ 

“Keep your hair on,” Jordon curled his lip, “I said it’s _’none of your business.’_ ” He didn’t look at Aron, not even wanting to slightly entertain the skinny man’s deranged ideas.

Danny didn’t blame him, it was the best way to deal with him after all.

Aron only responded with narrowed eyes, his shoulders somewhat relaxing as he did so. He crossed his arms, leaning up against the wall as he also refused to look at Jordon.

“Now, it’s my time to question you.” A cheeky grin appeared on Jordon’s face. “Why do you hate butterflies so much?”

Aron flinched, his fists curling up tightly. “No reason.”

Jordon raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint sparkling inside his baby-blue eyes. “Oh really? Was it because you loved to wear your sister’s butterfly wings when you were little, hmm? I know your secrets.”

“W-what? No!” Aron bared his teeth, making them almost resemble large vampire fangs.

Jordon smirked, Danny quickly realising that this wasn’t going to end too well for anyone.

“Were you caught one day? Your sister came home from school and saw you prancing around her pretty pink room? She saw how much fun you were having?” Jordon started to walked towards Aron, Aron walking back to get away from him.

“No- “

“It’s okay, Aron, you can tell us if you’re gay- “

“IM NOT GAY.” Aron screamed, his loud voice quaking the snickering room into pure silence.

“If you say so.” Jordon looked pleased to get the reaction he wanted out of Aron.

Danny was about to step in between the both of them, Aron looking like he was going to shred Jordon into a million pieces.

“You get so defensive about this! And you wonder why we think you are- “ 

“SHUT UP!” Aron snapped, scaring Jordon enough to make him step down slightly, surprising Danny.

Never in his life had Danny seen someone scare Jordon. The cocky and daring man would never back down, no matter what _anyone_ said or what _anyone_ threatened.

Aron was about to continue yelling but something strange stopped him, his wide eyes quickly darting back and forth between Jordon and the bunks.

Aron shook his head, like he was trying to deny what he saw. A snarl landed itself on his face once again, his knuckles turning white because of how hard he was trying to restrain himself. He done the best possible thing for everyone and stormed out into the bunks, his eyes weirdly shut. It was almost like whatever he saw out there could possibly hurt him and he was now baring himself for the worst.

Or maybe he was just really angry.

“I don’t get why you always try to wind him up.” Jorel broke the moment, another bowl of cereal in his hands.

“It gets boring and I like a bit of drama.” Jordon shoved his hands in his pockets.

“And an ass beating.” The Italian muttered, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“AGHHH!” An angry growl came from the bunks, Jordon’s smile quickly becoming apparent.

Matthew decided to finally talk. “What did you do?”

The man didn’t respond, awaiting the return of the vexed skeleton.

Loud, stomping footsteps came crashing back into the room, Aron’s eyes completely red. In his ghostly white hands were a band of scrunched, balled up butterfly stickers- like the ones you would get in a girl’s magazine…

Aron’s eyes locked dead on to Jordon like a hawk locating its prey. He used all his might in his scrawny arms to catapult the bundle of stickers at the shaking man and in one swift movement, it went flying across the room, smashing straight into Jordon’s chubby face.

It nearly knocked him off his feet, making him stumble back and slam into the wall behind him, vibrations sent throughout the whole bus.

“DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?” Aron shrieked, everyone wincing. “DO YOU?”

Jordon looked like he was about to break, tears sitting at the edge of his eyes. He solemnly shook his head, refusing to make eye contact. It looked like he was a child being scorned by his parents, a child who must have done something really bad.

“THEN WHY DID YOU DO IT? YOU KNOW THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES- “ 

“Aron.” Jorel quietly whispered his name, everything and everyone now hushed. “C- “

“Don’t even try that.” Aron growled.

No one wanted to move, no one wanted to set the beast off again, actually, it was lucky they wouldn’t even get the chance.

Aron marched outside, his bloodshot eyes focusing on the bus door before he ripped it open, slamming it behind him. It left everyone stunned and quiet, a strong sense of ‘who’s going to talk first’ lingering in between everyone.

Dylan walked into the room. “What did I miss?”

“Not much.”

Dylan shrugged, accepting it for what it was. He then noticed Jordon with a serious and stern looking face, Dylan himself looking somewhat _scared_. 

He approached the blue-eyed man, sharing everyone’s thought that this was unlike him. “I was just trying to have fun!” Jordon snarled, the small tears Danny saw a couple seconds ago had immediately disintegrated into thin air, never to be seen again.

Dylan looked towards the entrance from where the fuming monster had charged out, turning his nose up. “Jesus, he can’t even take a small joke.”

Jordon shrugged it off, realising that it wasn’t worth getting upset over. 

Danny stretched, embracing the beef that just took place. He guessed he would have to get used to this, Jorel had warned him even before the tour started. Jordon let out an annoyed huffed before he glanced over his shoulder to look at the counter, his eyes focusing on the Ouija Board. 

“O.”

“What?” The Mexican raised an eyebrow.

“No, the letter you idiot!”

Dylan stood there for a second before understanding what he meant. “OooOOo!” He rushed over to the lights, flickering them on and off, making everyone let out a small giggle.

Dylan smiled to himself, looking proud that he was able to make everyone laugh. Danny admired that the youngest still had a sense of silliness in him, at the young age 24 it was great he was still able to retain his teenager attitude.

Unexpectedly, the lights flickered on and off without Dylan touching it, everyone collectively shitting themselves at the same time.

Though it was somewhat funny, it left an atmosphere of confusion as everybody thought ‘wait, was that really _just_ the faulty electricity?’ 

Dylan’s face lit up, another wicked idea coming to his mind. “You know what this means!”

The whole room watched the Mexican run over to the counter, a childlike grin on his face as he picked up the Ouija Board. He then stood in the middle of the room, gracefully crossing his legs and sitting down on the floor, placing the board in front of him.

A wave of nervousness hit Danny, leaving him uncomfortable, a horrible feeling resting inside his stomach. Dylan clearly could see his discomfort, staring at Danny to grab his attention. He had a sly grin planted on his face, making Danny even more uncertain.

“Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be really short but ended out being longer but I'm sure you're not complaining. Next chapter is going to be REALLY exciting, so hold on to ye horses for a month of two


	7. Is anybody there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4058 words. enjoy
> 
> Written: 3rd of January 2018

“Is anybody there?”

.

 

.

 

.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT, WE NEED TO PUT CANDLES DOWN! IT WON’T WORK OTHERWISE!”

“Oh, my _arse._ ”

Jordon rose from his spot on the floor and almost jumped on top of the counter, his small hands latching on to the handle of one of the cupboards. He yanked it open, grabbing 5 small tea lights before bundling them close to his chest, focusing deeply so he wouldn’t drop any of them. That old, mischievous grin that Danny saw a little earlier had now returned, a twinkle of humour caught in his duck-egg blue eyes.

“Why do we even have those?” Matthew raised an eyebrow.

Jordon just shrugged, turning his back to all of them as he searched round for a box of matches, opening up all the drawers and rummaging around, probably creating a mess.

“It’s for when Jorel and Aron- “

“No, it isn’t!” Jorel snapped at Dylan, his fist balled up.

Of course, Jorel wouldn’t punch him, it was more of a big-man thing- kind of like the way Aron will stand on his tippy toes to try and tower over people when he is in an argument or the way Jordon will stalk towards someone before lunging at them. Everyone done it, including Danny, but some were funnier than others- like Aron’s (when you were watching from a distance.) 

“OooOOo!” Dylan stuck his tongue out before recomposing himself. “I was actually gonna say that _it’s for when Jorel and Aron take control when we have a power cut_ as you two are the _’sensible’_ ones.”

A pillow was flung into Dylan’s face, the man bursting out laughing as he started to lose his balance. His back crashed on to the floor behind him, a ‘thump’ accommodating his comical and dramatic fall, everyone snickering.

“Oi, Jordon!” The loud voice rung throughout the room, causing everyone wince. “Don’t play with fire!”

Jordon instantly froze to the spot, a lit match burning away in his hands. His face had guilt written all over it, clearly knowing that he’d been caught. Jordon’s eyes hesitantly peered down on to the counter, a now wide and culpable grin on his face as he slowly tapped his fingers on the charred surface next to him.

A couple of black matches were scattered on the counter, none of them even remotely close to the candles. It looked like they’d let a pyromaniac into the room, smoke floating around the now scorched surface where the Ouija board once resided. His eyes widened, quickly blowing out the match he was holding as the flame started to lap at his fingers, his hand frantically shaking in an attempt to cool it down.

“Come on!” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Just bring the candles down here, Danny can light them- he’s sensible.”

Danny felt his stomach drop, his eyes widening. “I…” He stopped himself from saying what he actually wanted to say. “Matthew, you are trustworthy too, why don’t you do it?” Danny awkwardly laughed, playing with his hands while he looked away from everyone else.

“Sure- “

“Danny,” Dylan’s deep voice caught his attention, “are you _scared_?”

Danny gulped. “Why would I? T-there is nothing to be scared of.” He felt his legs trembling, a dead-giveaway of his true emotions.

“But you’re the one who has the magical dreams!” Jordon pranced over towards the board, placing the lit candles in between them. His eyes darted towards Danny, slyness imbedded deep into them. “It’s your chance to finally talk to your true love.”

Dylan snorted, covering his mouth to try and contain laughter. “The ghost was probably one of Danny’s ex’s in the past life, coming back to find her one and only.”

“Her sweet-eyed babe.”

“Her special someone.”

“Her soulmate.”

“Her beloved.”

“Her boo.”

“Her- “

They suddenly went deathly silent, their eyes glued to something on the floor. Danny hesitated, dreading the worst as he finally decided to look down, seeing-

Wait…

Danny rubbed his eyes and checked again, scanning over everything below him. He felt his body start to tremble, his hands unable to sit still. 

The feeling inside him… he couldn’t explain it; shock, anger, fear, doubt- there just wasn’t a correct word to describe it. It was constricting him from talking; it’s long, sharp claws had wrapped their way round his neck, it’s cobra-like grip leaving him breathless, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull. It felt like a set of serrated teeth were raked down his spine, producing a shiver that shook Danny to his core.

Everyone else was too afraid to talk as well, their faces giving away all the emotions Danny was feeling. He forced himself to forget trepidation, sitting up straight to retain posture and control. “Jordon, you lit the candles before you put them down, right?”

The man nodded, his eyes wide like everybody else’s.

“So why have they gone out?”

It seemed like magic. It was there for a second, and now, it just wasn’t. It wasn’t like any of them could have blown them out- secretly doing something wasn’t a talent any of them had, let alone doing it in front of 4 others; now that would have been a miracle. No windows were open, so that only left one obvious reason…

Jordon looked severely worried as he thought about it for it for a moment, his eyes glossing over. He continued thinking for more than 10 seconds; that was a miracle too. The life then returned to them, another sign along with the shrugging that he had stopped caring.

Danny turned his nose up at Jordon’s response. “And you all wonder why this stuff terrifies me!” 

“Who blew them out?” Dylan put a hand on his hip, pulling an unnameable face; it was a mix of ‘I’m joking’ and ‘I’m somewhat being serious’.

“You, probably,” Jordon smacked him on the shoulder, Dylan looking offended, “with all that Mexican food you eat.” 

“We have to take this seriously!” Matthew scorned them, looking like a mother telling off her children. “This isn’t a joke.”

“Maybe because the ghost is mad,” Jorel finally piped up after 6 years of silence, “we shouldn’t do it.” He gave an uncomfortable smile, the look in his eyes unreadable.

“Let’s do it now!” Jordon stood back up, ignoring Jorel’s plea, “I’ll get more matches- “

Dylan watched him. “Man, sit yo’ ass down, I’ve got a lighter.” And Jordon did so.

He pulled a green, weed-printed lighter out from his pocket that was littered with scratches, a loud snicking sound arising as he tried to light it. “Damn, I bought it only about a week ago and its already running out.” He muttered before a small flame finally arose from the tip, Dylan looking pleased.

He waved it spookily over all the candles, observing each and everyone of them as the wicks gave off a small burst of flames as the edges caught on fire. The flickering seemed to reflect in his walnut-coloured eyes, sending another shiver down Danny’s spine as he saw something sinister look back at him.

“There we go.” Dylan flipped the lid back over the top, shoving it back deep inside his endless pockets. “Shall we start?”

“I agree with Jorel, we should do this another day.” Danny felt all of them staring at him, Jorel the only one giving him a minuscule smile, “If there is a ‘ghost’, then it will definitely not be happy, ESPECIALLY after you called it my past-life’s ex.”

“You think it’s a bloke?”

“Guys.” Matthew was getting more aggravated by the second. “Now that I have your attention, let’s _finally_ do this.”

“Alright then.” Jordon rolled his eyes and looked towards Dylan, both of them smiling at each other. 

Everyone shuffled around for a bit, trying to get comfortable; it being that rather someone had a dead leg or someone’s back was aching but, fortunately (after a couple of minutes,) they were eventually ready, all their fingers lightly touching the planchette.

“Should I take you through the rules?” Matthew asked the rest.

“No.”

“Good to see you are all interested.” Matthew pulled a fake smile. “Basically, you can’t press down too hard on the planchette and one person will ask a question and the rest will have to think about that question, but, it might take a long time for the ghost to answer; so, stay patient.”

The others weren’t listening, both of them whispering to each other.

“I’ll ask it first.” Matthew held his head high, pretending to be the person who knew _everything._ “Is anybody there?”

A snort came apparent as both Dylan and Jordon tried to contain their laughter, their eyes nearly bursting out their heads. As hard as they tried, they exploded, frantically slapping each other as they tried to stop.

“YOU TWO.”

They stopped dead in their tracks, looking up at the enraged curly-haired man.

“You sit down and behave or we will not do this at all.”

They looked each other and sighed. “Sorry mother Matthew.” Jordon and Dylan said in sync, both slightly grinning to themselves.

“Let’s try again.” Matthew wiped his face before placing his fingers back on the planchette. “Is anybody there?”

.

 

.

 

.

Nothing.

Jordon huffed, head in hand as Matthew shot a mean glare in his direction. “Just wait, it takes time.”

.

 

.

 

.

“I knew it wasn’t going to work!” Jordon threw his hands up in the air.

Betrayal was written all over Dylan’s face, his mouth wide open. “But you supported me!”

“Hmm?” Jordon raised an eyebrow. “I done it as a _joke,_ of course it wouldn’t work.”

“Look!” Matthew snapped, both of them glaring at the curly-haired man. “While you two were about to bicker away your lives, it moved, like you- “Matthew poked Jordon in the chest,”-wanted it to.”

Dylan’s mouth remained wide open, more in shock than rage.

Danny looked back down, quickly realising Matthew wasn’t lying. He felt the same shiver enter his body, the coldness of the bunks blanketing him once again. 

“God…” Jorel muttered.

The planchette was on the **Y E S,** leaving everyone horrified. How did it move? No one was touching it at the time- it was impossible.

“I think it’s the devil.” Dylan responded to Jorel.

Jordon started laughing hysterically, chilling Danny even more. He rapidly placed his fingers back on the planchette. “Let’s continue! Let’s continue!”

Everyone put their fingers back down, the atmosphere in the room greatly shifting as they started to take this more seriously than ever before. Danny could feel it hanging around him like cobwebs, enclosing him, _trapping_ him as he realised there was no backing out now.

No, he lost that chance _along_ time ago.

Jordon grinned. “Okay, how old are you?”

.

.

.

The planchette started moving in circles around the board, the spirit most likely thinking. It raced around the board 3 times before settling on the **N O.**

“Huh? It can’t do that!”

It started moving again.

**I**  
**C A N**  
**D O**  
**W H A T E V E R**  
**I**  
**W A N T**

Jordon kept his mouth shut, it looking like it had been glued together

“That told you.” Dylan smirked, Jordon unable to retort anything back. He then turned his attention back to Danny. “Oooo, your ex is rather sassy.”

“I-I should ask a question.” Jorel muttered, his brown eyes vacant.

He stared at the board for a bit, his hands slightly shaking. He was hesitating greatly, but why? Danny knew Jorel wasn’t happy doing this- and Aron wouldn’t have been either. _What_ were they fearing?

 _Who_ were they fearing?

“What’s your name?”

.

.

.

It started circling the board again before abruptly stopping in the middle, the planchette starting to inch towards the letters. Sadly, their excitement was destroyed when it flew over to the **N O,** again.

Jorel sighed in what seemed to be relief, while Jordon looked more annoyed.

“Can’t it answer anything?”

“Could you just stop taunting the board?” Matthew’s hair bounced in time as he turned his head towards Jordon. “You are not helping in anyway.”

Jordon was about to talk back, trying his best to bite his tongue, but, to no avail, he spilt. “Sorry mother Matthew.” He muttered under his breath, a strong sarcastic tone roaming throughout his voice.

Matthew was about to respond but Danny cut him off. “Can I try?”

“Hmm?” The curly-haired man happily turned his attention away from Jordon.

“Can I try asking a question?”

Matthew shrugged. “Sure.”

Danny focused on the board, analysing it deeply. What would the best question be? What would be the correct question be? Was there even a correct question? He didn’t want to upset the ghost so…

Actually, he didn’t care if he did.

“How did you die?”

It didn’t hesitate to answer, it immediately skidding over to the letters.

**I T**  
**W A S**  
**H I M**

“Who?”

**H I M**

“Tell us _who._ ” 

**H I M**

**H I M**

**H I M**

It got quicker and quicker, all their eyes darting around as the band tried to track where it was going to.

**H I M**

**H I M**

**H I M**

**H I M-**

The planchette went flying off the board, violently crashing into the wall of the bus. It was almost like someone had thrown it across the room, like they were getting angrier and angrier as they thought about what killed them, no…

 _Who_ killed them.

Jorel stood up unexpectedly, everyone staring at him. He dawdled over to the planchette, slowly picking it up and cradling it in his palms, his hands no longer shaking- which was weird. Jorel was peering down at the slate of wood, pain crawling inside his eyes. He looked up and out the window in front of him as a loud ‘clang’ noise arose from outside, his eyes widening.

“Aron’s back.”

Simply put, everyone panicked. Jordon grabbed the candles and blew them all out in a matter of seconds, sprinting over to the counter to shove them back in as quickly as humanly possible. Matthew went to pick the board up but Dylan knocked it out his hands, yanking it and flinging it underneath the nearest sofa, a soft ‘thump’ sent throughout the chaotic room. Jorel chucked the planchette to Dylan, also shoving the piece of wood under the bolted-down sofa.

“Act natural!” Matthew hissed, everyone getting into a place.

Dylan launched himself into the chair above where he hid everything, Jordon joining him on the seat next to him.

“So, how was your weekend?”

“I’d say it was alright, what about yours?”

“Good, good.”

Matthew crouched down, pulling his phone out before pretending to be on twitter or something- that’s were the goblin usually spent his time. Jorel hunched by the bunks, looking, really, _really_ out of place, even more than the others. He looked like he was waiting for something- Aron? Danny remained on the floor but skidded over towards the wall, his back barely touching it before-

The door slammed open, revealing the skinny man.

He was wearing his usual, black, tank top and skinny jeans, accompanied by a dark belt. His hair had been thoroughly straightened, it flowing over his long face. The man stood tall, or at least tried to, puffing his chest out to be ‘intimidating’.

He gave a swift scan of the scene in front of him. “What have you done?”

“Nothing… ANYWAY! Have you calmed down?” Jordon hopefully grinned as he ignored the question, Dylan watching with interest. 

“I have,” He nodded, “I’m just suspicious now.” Aron narrowed his eyes, shutting the door before leaning up against it, folding his twig arms.

Jordon’s smile faded, thinking of an excuse. “Well, we were…”

“Making fun of Matthew!” Dylan joined the conversation, wearing the same grin as Jordon.

Aron raised an eyebrow, showing a small smile. “You think I’m going to believe that?”

“Yes- as it is true after all.” Jordon started explaining. “I can easily give you 101 reasons why you should ‘believe’ us.”

“Go on then, amuse me.” He flicked his hair to the side, stopping it falling into his eyes. “I want _all_ 101 reasons why.”

“Oh…” Jordon didn’t actually expect him to say that. “Our first reason is- “

“Aron.”

Everyone looked at Jorel, the man no longer slouching. “Could we go talk?”

Aron’s smile dropped, his eyes piercing through Jorel. As reluctantly as he could, he followed him out the room, his stride now highly tense as he whispered something to Jorel, Danny barely catching his words-

“I was actually happy for once, and now you’ve come along and dragged me out- “

 _‘Poor Jorel, he’s gonna get an earful,’_ Danny started fiddling with his hands again, unsure why he was doing it- it wasn’t a habit for him, so strange to say the least.

Jordon let out a sigh of relief, the whole room joining in with it. Dylan was tapping his foot quickly on the floor, thinking. His eyes were concentrated, only slits visible as he gazed out the window. They looked _dead_ but, that could be said about Jordon’s eyes or Matthew’s eyes.

Oh, and the ghost’s.

“So,” Jordon clasped his hands together, “who wants to own up moving the planchette?”

“Not me.”

“Not me.”

“It was Danny then.”

“What? No!” Danny furrowed his eyebrows. “That thing scared the sh- “

“You owned up to it last, so, it had to be you.”

“But-”

“No. Arguments.” Matthew rubbed his own face. “We should focus on trying to decipher what the Ouija board was trying to say, that’s a better way to spend our time then to bicker about who ‘moved’ it.”

“Dylan must have done it!” Jordon concluded, ignoring Matthew.

Dylan chewed the inside of his cheek- a sign of nervousness. “Why me?”

“You didn’t speak throughout the whole session, so, you must have been concentrated on moving it to get a reaction out of us than asking a question.” 

The Mexican started laughing, looking at Jordon like he was mad.

Danny spaced out for a moment as he checked if he had any cigarettes. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, digging around to find the golden packet. He checked one jean pocket, then another, before finding the small box stuck in his back pocket. Danny pulled it out, rattling the box to check how many were left- the answer was not enough to last him the next day.

“Soooo, who moved it?”

**“I DID”**

Danny looked up as he heard the deep voice, the tone not registering inside his mind.

Strange, it couldn’t have been any of their voices. It was too deep, rough and scratchy- a combination that no one in the room had. In fact, it reminded him of….

No, it wouldn’t be, would it?

Danny brushed it off, shaking his head in dismay before blinking a couple times to try and refocus. He turned his head to look at the others, finding himself to be now watching the argument being thrown round the room again.

“I know you did it, I can tell by that look in your eyes!”

“Me? You are the one who’s defending yourself by shoving the blame on to other people!”

“Uhhh… You did it!”

“No, _you_ did it!”

**“DON’T IGNORE ME”**

Danny flinched, staring around the room again, feeling the sweat dripping off his forehead.

There was no one else here, no one else could be talking like that. Sure, Dylan’s voice was deep but it was just so unlike this voice and Matthew’s was scratchy but this voice sounded like it was damaged by smoking, not screaming. 

Wait, the others weren’t reacting to the voice- can’t they hear it?

 _’God, I’m going mad,’_ Danny thought, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

No, he was perfectly fine! It was just his imagination playing tricks on him as he has just been in a stressful situation and this was perfectly reasonable.

**“DON’T IGNORE ME”**

The voice repeated again, Danny clutching his stomach as a small, sparking pain arose inside him.

It felt like a flame was resting in his intestines, slowly and painfully catching all of his insides alight, almost like a wildfire. He was scared, his skin violently shaking as the pain tore through his body, leaving him with wide eyes and frantic breathing.

Was he going to die? Was this what it was like to have a heart attack or something? Was this-

“Danny?”

The noise took him out his trance, finding that Jordon was leaning over him.

“Y-yeah…” Danny muttered, the pain inside him disappearing, making him release his torso from his tight grip.

“You alright? You’re acting a bit…” Jordon tried to find the correct word,” …weird?”

“Ha-ha…” Danny pushed his hair back with one his hands, staring nervously at the floor. “I’m fine, I just feel a bit sick.” He slowly stood up, resting a palm on his abdomen, confusion flooding his mind. 

“You should go lie down.” Jordon placed a hand on his shoulder, it feeling like it was burning through his ice-cold skin as it made contact, Danny instinctively jumping.

“I will.” He shoved Jordon away before he started walking over towards the bunks, feeling everyone watching him.

Danny started to run, not wanting to feel their peering eyes see straight through him. Could they tell what happened? God, they would make fun of him, ridicule him, kick him out of the band as they’d think he was mad! He didn’t want this, he never asked for this.

He shot through the doorframe, skidding into the bunks before nosediving into his own, facing towards the wall so he didn’t even have to lay his eyes once on to _that_ bunk. That stupid thing started everything, it’s all its fault!

**“WHY DO YOU BLAME ME? YOU WANTED TO SLEEP IN THERE”**

Danny’s whole body flinched, fear striking him as he was paralysed from head to toe. 

**“I WAS HERE BEFORE YOU, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT”**

Danny wanted to cover his ears with his hands but he just couldn’t, too scared that whoever was talking would eat him or something. He wanted to scream but he just couldn’t, it feeling like someone had stuck a knife in his neck and had ripped his throat open.

As purely terrified as he was, the moment that made him completely shit himself was when he felt someone sit down on the edge of his bunk, the strong feeling of someone watching him returning once again.

Danny’s breathing was deep and heavy, his hands twitching as he heard a sigh coming from the end of the bed. Or was it his imagination?

It couldn’t have been, this all felt too real.

The feelings, the smells, the sights, the sounds-

Yes, definitely the sounds. Maybe it just wasn’t all in his head, maybe he wasn’t mad after all, maybe there was actually ghost but that leaves a question wide open- why him?

Why was the ghost after him? The others had been on this tour bus for 5 _years,_ if the ghost was to just pick a random person, then it would have been one of them, not him.

Danny finally moved, his whole body suddenly relaxing as he placed his pale hands in front of his face, analysing every little line and small detail on his palms, his blue veins apparent. That’s all he was, a bunch of veins mashed together. There’s nothing important or special about him, he’s just like everyone else. 

He felt his eyelids slightly droop, his vision becoming somewhat blurry before, an idea popped into his head.

“How old are you?” He whispered into the air.

**"23"**

“When you died?” It didn’t respond, leaving Danny to come to conclusions himself. “God, you were young...”

Danny looked over his shoulder, his unfocused vision making out a man sitting there, wearing a black jacket. Short, blood speckled hair was visible before some white _object_ -a mask?- crept over his forehead, but, Danny couldn’t see any further than that, his vision restricting him like thorns.

Danny gulped, ready to ask his last question.

He turned away from the man, lying back down on his side. He huffed, squinting his eyes tightly shut.

“What…” Danny paused. “What’s your name?”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

**"GEORGE**

**ARTHUR**

**RAGAN"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well well well
> 
> You like the ending? What's gonna happen next? You'll have to wait to February (Probably March I got more exams)
> 
> Edit: ahh, now the next chapter will be an developing character chapter, what fun ;)


	8. Hell called Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noice noice finally finished this. A bit on the shorter side but oh well. This chapter takes place directly after the last in case you get confused. 1877 words.
> 
> Written: 11th of February 2018

7 years. 2555 days. 3,679,200 minutes. 220,752,000 seconds.

That’s how long I’ve been stuck here.

Stuck here on this hell called earth. 

I’ve tried so hard to escape, really, I’ve done everything I can think of.

Running, climbing, fighting, screaming, praying- nothing ever works.

I gave up trying, letting everyone go off and do their own thing. I watched them continue on with their lives, without me. One of them would always spend his time crying, the other constantly trying to calm him down. As much as I wanted to help, I couldn’t, all I could do was spectate and listen to his endless weeping. God, that’s all he would ever do; screech, sob, cry, nothing else and nothing more. He refused to leave the apartment he resided in, trapped inside day and night as he grieved, staring at the walls for hours on end with watery eyes.

I didn’t want to watch him cry; I hated it. I tried to hug him but I couldn’t touch him; every swipe just being a shiver down his spine. My touch was cold and unnerving and soon, I became just that. His whines became nothing, his sobbing became nothing, I became nothing. I felt nothing, I believed in nothing, nothing was important.

I was gone, and that was it.

It took a while, but they moved on, without me. He started to open up again, seeing that a life without me wasn’t impossible, that he was able to stand up on his own two feet. He got a job, a girlfriend, new friends, new enemies.

He got a new chance, something that I can only dream of now.

Him and our friend started a band, it being 2, then 3, then 6, then down to 5. The music was horrendously bad at first; I used to sit on their cheap speakers and listen, cringing at every note. Gradually, the quality rose and rose, finding my foot tapping along occasionally as I bopped my head along to the tunes. It became a place of comfort; it being where I could just not think about anything. I would make up my own lyrics to some of their tunes, spending the majority of my time muttering them along.

They got signed and released an album. They were happy, life finally starting to look like it was getting better after the little mishap, the mishap of me.

I wasn’t happy; I should have been there, I should have been in the band, not _him._ He didn’t deserve to live, he should of died, not me. 

When they started touring, I joined along- I had nothing better to do anyway. I would go to their shows and just stand at the back, analysing their every movement. There were times where they would be looking around the venue and their eyes would stop directly on me, their blood pumping faster as they became unsure and scared. I know it’s all coincidence, no one can see me.

Well, not until now.

They felt that 5 was too little, that they were missing someone. The tall one caught someone they’d met at a party singing his heart out whilst cooking. He thought it was fantastic and that it was a revolutionary voice, so, he decided to report back to the rest of the band about his discovery. They planned to meet up with him, to see if he could be the new addition that they had longed for.

As he walked through the door, something struck me… 

There was something about him.

I-I couldn’t describe it; I could smell it, I could see it, I could taste it, this… light coming off of him. It was drawing me in closer to him, the sweet scent of honey enticing me. It was powerful and overwhelming, clouding my brain before the realisation quickly hit me. 

He was the one I’ve been waiting for all these years, he was the one that could help me!

It only took a matter of seconds for my plan to arise from the fiery pits of hell, a sly grin sliding its away across my face, something that hasn’t happened in 7 years. 

“Are you okay?”

The voice started to break me out of my trance, my head turning to the side to who it was.

It was the crying one.

“Oh, I’m fine”

Another voice distracted me, bringing me back to this horrid reality. The blond one, who was in front of me, sat up in his bunk, looking at the crying one.

“The rest said you were feeling sick, do you feel better now?”

He nodded. 

“Good.”

I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, I had to speak.

**“ASK HIM ABOUT ME”**

He flinched, gulping harshly as he bit his tongue.

“Do… do you…” His soft words slurred off, his brown eyes staring off into the distance.

“What?”

He hesitated again.

“Don’t worry,” he shook his head, “we should go back to the front and see what we’re doing today.”

“But- “

“Let’s go.” 

The light one swiftly exited, running away from me as quickly as possible, leaving the other man scrambling to catch up.

He didn’t want to believe in me, he didn’t want to accept his fate. Can’t blame him really, I didn’t want to either.

Guess that’s why I am here.

That day… I still think about it. I didn’t provoke it, I didn’t ask for it, it was a complete accident on my part… Hah, what am I thinking? It _was_ my fault, I shouldn’t have been so stupid and careless. If only I wasn’t drunk, I could’ve fought back, I could’ve stopped him doing it, I could’ve stopped him becoming depressed. 

“GUYS! We need to go, concert is in 10 minutes!”

Footsteps ran out of the bus, the chattering and laughing quickly fading. They were always late, usually running from bars and pubs to get to the concert in time.

I walked into the front room, beer cans and weed littered throughout the lounge. As I passed, I flicked a beer can over, it spilling all over the floor. It would definitely leave a stain, the liquid seeping deep into the dusty carpet. I turned my nose up, my fists curling up as memories of the past swarmed around in my mind. I spitefully tugged my black coat back over my shoulders, stopping it slipping off any more than it was.

I would kill to have a drink, to feel the liquor flush my throat clean of the taste of blood, to feel clean and somewhat calm again. I hate it but I still crave it so much, my long love never seeming to fade even after death. I want just one sip, one sip to just let me forget about my problems one last time, one sip to just forget about _him._

The blond one suddenly ran back in, grabbing his own jacket before raising an eyebrow at the fallen can. He stood there for a second, pondering, his face screwing up, confusion mixed in with it. I wonder what he thought; had he realised it was me? He shook his head in denial before sprinting out, not daring to look back. I followed him again. 

I don’t like being left by myself, I don’t like being left _with_ myself.

They all had disappeared, night already creeping over the scene. Time passes a lot quicker for me; it only feeling like a couple of minutes while it was actually 2 hours.

I approached the security guards, glaring at both of them as I walked passed. They wouldn’t know I was there, it was just out of habit from when I was alive. I phased through the doors, the faint screeching of guitars hitting my ears.

I followed the noise down the long hall, flashing lights greeting me as I drew closer to the auditorium, 6 erratic figures becoming visible in the distance. People were bouncing all around the room, crashing into each other and generally just enjoying themselves. It was too hectic for me; I’ve never been a fan of being in the centre of things, let alone being hit and shoved around by sweaty _animals_ I don’t know.

Getting close to the stage was never a thing I would do. The back of the room was obviously the better spot; no people and no distractions. I leaned my back up against the wall, closely watching all of them.

The short one was jumping around, staying close to the front of the stage while shouting down his microphone. He seemed to float around the blond one, the blond one himself singing and smiling along with him. The tall one was standing near the back, trying to distract the one with curly hair from drumming. He then ran over to the crying one to do the same, trying to steal his guitar. The skinny one was standing near the side of the stage, holding his microphone with shaky hands as we made eye contact.

His big, strong attitude had disappeared, the weak, fragile skeleton that I had always known came back again, only for a second. He let out a huff, a snarl coming upon his face as he tried to ignore me. The life that was once in him came back though, but only because it was the start of his chorus.

My gaze ventured towards the blond one leering at me, it looking like he had seen a ghost, literally, his eyes wide. He just kept _staring,_ frozen in place as he realised who he was staring at, his limbs starting to quake and shiver. The only reason he looked away was because the short one decided to grab him and shake him back to life, causing the crowd to stir with laughter.

He can’t deny it forever, he’ll have to accept it one day. It was his fault he got trapped; he still slept in the bunk even after all the warnings, he made fun of me, he didn’t take my dreams seriously, he laughed when they spoke of me, he decided to continue ignoring me. No longer; I won’t let this continue, I won’t let him stay blind, I won’t let him-

“Goodnight everybody!”

I opened my eyes to see I was back in the bunks, surrounded by the sleeping band mates. It was just snoring... and more snoring.

Everyone was sleeping apart from one, their brain activity immediately going haywire as soon as I appeared from nowhere.

I knew where I was heading; a cold breeze following me as I walked further down the B.O smelling hallway, the sound of blankets being moved and rearranged as I passed. I stopped dead in the middle and knelt down, looking at my little, shaking puppet.

He had his hands wrapped around his body, his fingernails digging into his skin. The grey covers he had were tucked underneath him, cocooning him like a caterpillar before it turns into a butterfly. He shivered and shuffled soon after I started to analyse him, his heart beat rising and his breath becoming more erratic than before. 

He needs to learn a lesson, a lesson he won’t forget.

Guess I’ll just have to invite him back in,

one 

last 

time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who liked the perspective change? Don't worry if you didn't, it's changing back next chapter. The ending of this one should be easy to understand but if you don't, go back to the start and you'll realise ;)


	9. Do you recognise them now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man i hated writing this chapter but i'm glad its done now. I guess you'll finally get a proper introduction to our boy. 3492 words.
> 
>  
> 
> Written: 4th of March 2018

A cold breeze lashed its sharp claws at Danny’s neck, the man uncomfortably shivering.

He let out a long and pained groan, Danny slowly dragging his tattooed hands across his icy skin as he rubbed the sand from his eyes. A weird feeling resided inside of him, his mind telling him that something just _wasn’t_ right.

Sure, it was normally cold when he slept. Every night this would happen, Danny believing that it was most likely the ghost pacing up and down the hallway of the bunks; but it seemed even colder tonight, like the decaying spirit was looming over him.

The thought quickly left as a flurry of air smacked his quaking body, almost like he’d been punched in the stomach. He stretched his torso out, groaning once again.

The will to do something about the cold was non-existent, there being no clear reason to even slightly open his eyes until he realised-

His covers were on him when he fell asleep and they couldn’t have gone far since the bunks are too small. He had so much room around him to move and he could stretch his arms out and his legs weren’t scrunched up…

He couldn’t be sleeping in his bunk.

Danny’s eyes shot open, looking down at where he was lying.

Where… was he?

He instantly pushed his body into a sitting position, looking down on to the scene below him.

A deep, maroon coloured carpet met his warm eyes, reddish-brown stains catching his attention. Wool-loops had been pulled up, leaving long streaks of metal exposed, especially near the doors. Dirt had been lodged everywhere, it looking like no amount of vacuuming would be able to free it from its dark cage. What Danny wished was mud had been dropped along the walk space, leaving a long streak running from the stairs all the way to the end of the hall. It could’ve been anything but the red tint it was dressed in was indicating that it was something much darker than what he initially thought.

Danny gagged, repulsed by the state of the grisly carpet. 

He stood up in less than a second, horrified further as he realised he had been sleeping on it. Sick crept up his throat, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to stop himself throwing up. Danny had always had a deep-rooted need for cleanliness, something he had learnt from his mum and something he had always been taught.

But the carpet was something he shouldn’t be worrying about at the moment, there was a bigger question now hanging over Danny’s head.

He paused, looking around.

 

.

 

.

 

.

Where the fuck was he?

He glanced around again, doing a full 360° before being even more confused.

A minute ago, he was in his nice and cosy bunk, snoozing and enjoying his night, not sleeping on some skanky floor.

So, how did he end up here?

Danny swivelled his head around again, scanning his surroundings as he stood up, trying to process this weird setting.

God, where should he start? Well, he gathered he was standing in a hallway, a hallway which led to 4 different rooms.

Four doors; three opened and one shut.

He took a few steps forward, peering into the room straight in front of him. It was a bathroom, disgusting just like the floor. As he stood in the doorway he scanned the gloomy room, his eyes latching on to the grimy and filth lined tiles, the white colour of the sink looking more like a brownish-grey. Toothbrushes had been knocked on to the floor, two empty bottles of mouthwash dumped on the small counter above the toilet. The bath, oh Lord, the bath was something he wasn’t even going to attempt to look at, Danny fearful of what diseases could be laying in it. The thought that someone could even enter this room let alone use it to do anything seemed to terrify him.

Danny wrinkled his nose at it, turning his head to see into the next two rooms. They were your standard bedrooms, one of them with a messy, unmade bed, clothes on the floor (socks and underwear included) and wrappers thrown everywhere like confetti. The curtains were still drawn but they were unlined, a weird light shining through which gave away this room’s secrets. He decided to leave it alone, in fear of what else could be lurking in there. The other one was neat and tidy; the floor was nicely hoovered and there was a straight pile of paperwork on the desk next to the bed. It was a big change from the bathroom and the other bedroom, this clearly standing out in this chaotic house.

Danny twisted his head around again.

The last door…

Police tape was strung around it, giving Danny a hint that he probably should leave it alone. Dust coated the edges of the wood, the cream-coloured paint now turning a dark grey. 

Curiosity drew him closer to the door, his fingers moving some of the police tape out the way to find the handle. It even looked evil; the once shiny gold was now rusted and was corroding. 

Danny placed a shaky hand on it, before wiggling it.

.

.

.

Nothing.

He tugged it again, using all of his strength to pull it open.

.

.

.

Nothing.

Danny let go, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance. Someone must have locked it for some reason and that intrigued him even more.

He knelt down, his knees cracking as he did. He lined his eye up to the keyhole, peering into the part-lit room.

This room was dark as well, Danny unable to see that far. What looked-like a pile of clothes had been stacked up against a wall, it emitting a horrible odour. Danny could just about see a bed next to the pile, something dark splattered all over it. In fact, it was everywhere; the bed, the walls, the floor, the pile of… no, that wasn’t clothes.

That was a body, covered in blood.

Its _own_ blood.

Danny felt sick again, something in his mind screaming at him to stop looking but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away, being more focused on the body than anything else. He was squinting, trying to figure out who it was and then, his vision became clearer.

They were completely limp, their arms just resting on the floor. Blood was running down their neck, their white t-shirt soaking all of it up like a sponge. Droplets of red were dripping off their rough and cut fingertips, pooling on the carpet below him. Their legs were awkwardly bent, one of them slightly scrunched up while the other was just lying out in front of them, unnaturally twisted to the side. It was almost like they had hit the wall and then fell because of some external force.

It then clicked.

This wasn’t just an accident…

Someone had done this.

Suddenly, the bodies hand shot over to the bed, it starting to pull itself up from the floor. Danny jumped back, his soul leaving his body as he was nearly frightened to death. He took some steps back, his fists clenching defensively.

He could hear the squelching of blood from a distance until… it just stopped, Danny unable to hear anything.

Time seemed to go in slow motion as he waited before he decided look back in.

There was nothing there, only a tidy room with no blood and no dead body.

He shook his head in denial, wanting to believe that he was dreaming or maybe the ghost was giving him some sort of hallucination. No, that was just stupid, he was either ill or his imagination was just running wild. He knew there couldn’t be anything or anybody in there; that was just ridiculous. 

Danny decided a glass of water would refresh him and bring him back to reality so, he ventured downstairs, trying to forget and ignore what just happened. It was just his stupid imagination, that’s all it was. He was stressed about touring and the ghost and it was just manifesting into a disturbing dream.

Another realisation hit him as he entered the hallway downstairs, Déjà vu bringing the memories back from a couple days ago.

He’d been here before, yes, he’d _definitely_ been here before, around a couple nightmares ago.

Nothing had changed, everything still where it last was.

 _‘I guess I did get to find out what was upstairs…’_ Danny thought to himself as he looked over his shoulder cautiously, making sure he wasn’t going to be killed again.

He wandered into the kitchen with his hands stuffed into his onesie pockets, memories of his previous nightmare swarming his mind, making him immediately check for the knife. 

His scanning eyes drifted from the counter to the drawer, which was fortunately shut, no evidence of the knife anywhere. That was good, Danny feeling somewhat relieved as maybe there was a chance he wouldn’t be murdered this time.

His thirst for water came along and interrupted his thoughts again, Danny starting to look around at the cupboards. He opened one up, glad that he was able to find some glasses easily. Surprisingly, for this place, it looked as though someone had actually washed them.

Danny picked out the small, whiskey-type glass, ‘Jack Daniels’ printed on to it. He took it over to the tap, flicking up one of the switches to let the cold-water flood out.

 _‘At least the water is clean,’_ Danny thought, testing the water with his fingers to double check it was actually cold.

He filled his glass up with a frown on his face, deep in his thoughts as he turned the tap off.

Was he just going to have to wait out this nightmare? Well, what could he do? It wasn’t like he could just click his heels together and go back to his bunk.

He started to overthink, his mind racing. Why was he here again? Why was it different this time? Why couldn’t he just be in his bunk enjoying the tour? There must be a reason, there has to be a deeper meaning; his brain wouldn’t just show him a dead body just for the kicks.

Why did his brain even do that? It was rather-

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

 **“THAT’S A BIT RUDE.”**

Danny recognised that sarcastic and sly tone, his shoulders tensing as he whipped his head around to the side, eyes widening once again as his suspicions were confirmed.

The cause of his nightmare was standing in front of him, the _person_ who started it all. They were leaning in the door frame leading to the kitchen, filling up the majority of the walk space. He was absolutely massive, Danny swearing that he was way larger than he last remembered. His broad shoulders nearly took up the whole width of the frame, his enormous hands shoved into his jacket pockets and his arms tense.

Danny unconsciously puffed his chest out, standing up straight as he tried to hold his head high. At this moment in time he wouldn’t be able to match the muscular or scary features of the _person_ standing opposite him, but he could at least try.

“You must be…?” Danny almost whispered.

**“GEORGE.”**

He had his classic, midnight-black jacket on, a white, blood speckled t-shirt underneath…

Wait, was he _that_ dead body?

A white mask was shielding his face, 2 large, dark lines spanning from around his eyebrows all the way down to his jawline. There was silver duct tape placed over his mouth in an ‘x’ shape, a red-mahogany stain behind it like he had been bleeding from the inside. Blood had been stained around the nose holes, it dribbled all the way down to his chin, the same happening to the wide eye holes. You could actually see his cold eyes shining through, his pupils no more than slits, almost like he was seeing something horrific over and over again.

The two gaping slits were still in his neck, both on each side of his ‘3’ tattoo. They were deep, Danny being able to see inside his neck, all the muscle and tissue exposed.

Danny gulped. “You’re a lot larger than I thought you were.” He could see the faint outline of George’s abs underneath his t-shirt, Danny not wanting to admit that he was slightly intimidated.

He didn’t reply, he just continued to stare at him.

Danny slightly shut his eyes, trying to stay calm and collected. “You’ve been following me since the start of tour.”

George nodded, **“CORRECT.”**

“Why?” Danny felt more confident, realising that there was no need for him to act scared or afraid.

**“I’VE BEEN HERE SINCE THE VERY START, I JUST NEEDED TO FIND THE RIGHT PERSON.”**

“And… that was me?” Danny raised an eyebrow, shoving his own hands into his pockets.

He simply nodded. 

Danny then heard him scoff. **“YOU’RE ACTING SO SCARED,”** he turned his back to Danny and wandered over to the front door, **“I THOUGHT YOU WERE KING OF THE JUNGLE.”**

Danny’s cheeks went red, almost forgetting that he was wearing the lion onesie. He should probably stop wearing it; this was the second time he’d been teased.

He ignored it though, focusing back on George. He was strange; his sharp eyes staring out through the frosted glass, like he could see something or someone out there, an alarmed look present.

Danny didn’t know what or who it could be; he could only see darkness enclosing the outside. Danny needed to think logically, George was dead and probably could just see things that he couldn’t, simple as that.

With a sigh, Danny looked down at the trainers near the bottom of the stairs, his eyes then drifting to the photo frames on the wooden stand a couple feet away from the shoes. The photos looked clear, unlike the last time he saw them. “Did you live here?” Danny asked, feeling stupid because he was asking such an obvious question.

**“YES, THIS WAS MY HOUSE.”**

“Oh…” Danny strolled over to the stand, kneeling down in front of it to have a closer look. 

A thought was still stirring in his mind, Danny wanting to know everything and anything about this ‘George’ person. “Why am I the ‘right’ person?” It was an easy question, or that’s what Danny thought.

The silence was almost deafening, Danny hearing his heart pump quicker and quicker. The figure behind him was still as anything, almost like he was frozen in time.

 _‘Is his mouth glued together?’_ He narrowed his eyes, quickly getting fed up.“ _Why?_ ” Danny repeated.

When there was no reply, he moved his head so he could stare at George, demanding his answer even more.

His eyes were staring straight back at Danny, an unrecognisable look now in them. He twisted his body to the side, his mask moving as he spoke. **“YOU ASK TOO MANY QUESTIONS.”**

“Good or bad thing?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

**“BAD.”**

Danny didn’t look away, head held high as he was having a stare down with the dead man. Danny  
gulped.

George stood up straight, no longer hunched over. **“ITS NONE OF YOUR BUISNESS.”**

Danny decided to give up, realising that he couldn’t out stubborn him. He decided to look at the photos, something he had been longing to do since he first came here. 

The photo frames had dust resting on top of them, it being thick and gunky. Danny blew it off, George closely watching. His loud footsteps had given away that he was now standing behind him, Danny feeling him leaning over his shoulder.

Danny found himself looking at a picture of two people, one dramatically taller than the other. Danny took a reasonable guess that these were his parents, the height kind of giving it away. There were 3 children in the photo; one baby and two older children. Danny guessed again that the child staring evilly at the camera was George, those blue eyes burning deep into his soul.

He put the photo frame down, picking up the other one, it looking like it had been thrown against the floor. From what he could see, there were three people standing together, looking like your average _friends._ The actual photo looked like it had been taken around ten years ago, the three figures looking like they were in their late teen.

The one on the left was horribly skinny, his bones sticking out at every joint. He had a long face along with black hair drooping over it, his ears pierced twice. He was the smallest out of the bunch, a couple of tattoos littered over his arms. 

The one on the right was slightly larger but still fairly small. He had more tattoos, mainly consisting of fake gunshot wounds and scratches. He looked like your casual emo or goth, wearing full black with snake bites implanted under his mouth and wide, stretched ears. He had similar hair to the skinny one, the only difference being that this person’s was longer, it curving around his face.

Both of them were being held by the person in the middle, his large arms around their shoulders. A large crack was present on the glass of the frame, looking like this person was being split in half. Danny squinted to see, moving it to the side to get a better view. He was taller than the others, looking like the exact opposite of the skinny one. Danny would’ve liked to have looked at his face but he couldn’t.

Why? Because his face had been torn out.

Yes, his face had physically been torn out from the photo, only his body visible. Danny didn’t have to guess who it was though; there really was only one person it could be…

Why would he leave this frame here if the photo is ruined? Danny didn’t really understand until… 

**“DO YOU NOT REALISE? ARE YOU REALLY THAT BLIND?”** Spite rolled off George’s tongue. **“YOU CAN’T LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE YOU PRETEND THAT EVERYTHING IS PERFECT AND NO ONE CAN DO ANY WRONG- OPEN YOUR EYES, DANNY.”**

Danny did, staring at the photo even harder.

**“DO YOU RECOGNISE THEM NOW?”**

It then clicked, Danny realising who they were. He had spent so much time concentrating on everything else- how did it take him so long? He really was as stupid as George thought. These were faces he saw every day and faces that he knew so well. Why didn’t he recognise them? 

How did they know George? Why do they not talk about him?

They seemed close in this photo, so why would they hide his existence from the band? Could this be the reason why they are so-

The snapping of George’s fingers interrupted his thoughts, Danny realising that he actually wanted an answer.

He gulped, analysing the frame once again. Words seemed to fail him, his voice no more than a whisper. “Aron, Jorel and…”

Danny turned his head to George and looked straight into his eyes, his breath lost as he waited for the answer he so longed for. George didn’t look impressed, taking a step towards Danny, only a small amount of room present in-between them. 

George towered over him, anger swarming in his icy eyes. He slammed his foot on the floor before shoving his face in front of Danny’s, pulling his mask up slightly to reveal his scar-ridden mouth. 

He spat at Danny with disgust, blood-mixed saliva splattered all over the chest of his onesie. Blood started suddenly pouring out of his mouth, George placing his hands over it to try and catch it or maybe, he was trying to cover it up. 

Why? Danny wasn’t too sure at this moment in time.

Like a waterfall, it was spilling through the cracks of his fingers, splashing on to the ground below him.

Danny, eyes wide with shock, could feel himself recoil in fear, taking a few steps backwards to try to distance himself. Danny’s head began to swim with thoughts, his stomach retching as his throat began to shut. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he could no longer move. George looked horrifying; blood escaping his cupped hands, it running down his tattooed arms. He was able to make Danny quake with fear, the man looking like a character from a horror movie. 

He wanted to help but he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what he even _could_ do. 

George tilted his head up to look at Danny, everything seeming to freeze. His eyes were blacked out, Danny quickly becoming even more scared than he already was. His hunched over body was twitching madly, his hands shaking as they were being weighed down by the liquid pooling in them.

George’s mouth opened one last time, the bloody words he wanted to speak being finally coughed out;

**“IT WAS ME.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? I hate writing conversation so this was painful. Don't worry the next chapters the plot does continue, so if you hated the last two it should go back to normal (???) I definitely know the next one will be fun to write ;)  
> Edit: no one commented :(


	10. Whiskey and cigarettes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late, I was being lazy and I was a bit busy. thanks for being patient. 3509 words.
> 
>  
> 
> Written: 27th of April 2018

A pair of hands grabbed Danny’s shoulders, a tight grip digging itself inside his tender muscles.

He forcefully shoved the other person away, his arms flailing as he tried to protect himself, squinting tightly as he prepared to feel pain.

“Jesus!” The voice muttered angrily.

That voice… 

Danny knew that voice.

“Jorel?” He opened his eyes, sitting up straight to peer at the man in front of him. 

Jorel’s sweet eyes were looking back at him, a hint of confusion but concern in them. His mouth was slightly opened, almost like he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wearing his normal hat, in fact, he wasn’t even wearing a hat, his black, messy hair exposed to the world. Dark jeans and a plaid hoodie were covering his body, his tattooed hands now shoved into his trousers pockets- which probably hadn’t been cleaned out since the start of tour.

Jorel then raised an eyebrow and smirked, somehow able to find humour in this. “Bad dream?” He asked, pulling a child-like grin.

Danny sighed as he shut his eyes before they swiftly opened again, the horrid image of blood pouring out of George’s mouth staining his mind. “Yeah,” he shook his head in denial, “it was just a _bad_ dream.”

It was nice to be back; his soft sheets below him almost calling his name and dragging him back under their comforting hold. It was like he was sitting on top of clouds, his body sinking down into it as he almost lost consciousness-

“You were talking in your sleep.” 

“Hmm?” Danny’s head shot up, his arms becoming tenser by the second. His eyes stretched open, darting around as the words truly processed. Possibilities contended his mind, the reality of what he said finally settling, his fingers gripping the sheets below him harshly as anxiety swarmed throughout his body.

Jorel just watched him, not looking amused. He leaned his back up against the bunks, crossing his arms with grace. “I couldn’t tell _what_ you were talking about, but I heard the last part.”

A gulp was the only thing that came from Danny, fear slicing him open as he realised that anyone on the bus could have easily have heard his conversation with George.

“You mentioned… well, you said _Aron, Jorel and…_ ” Jorel shifted uncomfortably and flicked his hair to the side. “What was going on then? What were you dreaming about?”

Words failed Danny, no excuse coming to mind. “I-it was nothing. Anyway, I dont remember.” He stood up and placed a hand on his chest. “I promise.”

Jorel looked defiant and tense. The glare in his eyes showed that he clearly didn’t believe Danny, but he still relaxed and lowered his head. “I’m not in the mood for arguing, I have to save that for _someone_ else.” He stared down the hallway, his eyes scanning up and down. He then sighed, “just get changed.”

Danny took it as a blessing, sheepishly throwing on a pair of black jeans before he noticed something. He raised an eyebrow before looking around for his t-shirt, in fact, where were his t-shirts? None of his clothes were about. He checked the floor, only pairs of shoes and a pair of broken sunglasses meeting his eyes. Danny knew it couldn’t be in his bunk, it always being dead empty. He would never leave anything in there, there just wasn’t enough room the put anything in there; so, this really was a mystery. 

“Do you have any spare t-shirts or anything like that?” Danny had his back turned to Jorel as he shuffled through his own duffle bag. 

Jorel hesitated, pausing for a moment. He thought about it before speaking. “You can borrow this but I want it back as soon as you’re done with it.” A large, black hoodie was then flung at him, Danny being blinded for a short second as it covered his eyes.

It smelt faintly of… whiskey and cigarettes. It didn’t bother Danny; he was used to the smell because of the tour bus. It was strange for him since it was so weirdly familiar, it starting to flood his nostrils. His brain scrambled over all of his memories, trying to just find one link, trying to find the time he had smelt this.

It was 100% clear that this wasn’t Jorel’s; it was too large, it probably looking more like a dress on him than anything else and, of course, the smell of it definitely didn’t belong to him.

He shook the thought away and quickly got changed, dragging the hoodie over his head. Coldness shook his body once again, squeezing Danny tightly as he felt his bones start to freeze from the inside-out. He shivered, yanking the hood up over his head, hoping to find some-sort of warmth and comfort.

“That looks a bit big on you.” Jorel raised and eyebrow and smiled. “I’ll look through Aron’s bag to see if he has anything.”

A couple pairs of socks were thrown out, as well as a pre-made protein shake. “That’s boring.” Jorel then threw out a tank top, exclaiming- “that’s a horrible colour! What _possessed_ him to bring that?” But then, his eyes lit up as he pulled out a pill bottle. He held it and showed it off to Danny, laughing to himself. In excitement, he went to grab something else before-

“HEY!” The unknown voice roared, both Jorel and Danny stopping dead in their tracks. 

Large, storming footsteps crashed their way towards the boys, a demonic, skinny shadow growing as the steps came closer. Jorel’s shoulders tensed up, dropping the pill bottle on to the covers of Aron’s bunk, his back now facing Danny. 

“ _What_ are you doing?” Danny could feel the words slice into him, even though they were directed at Jorel.

“Nothing…” Jorel closed the curtain to the bunk.

“Oh really? Like I’m going to believe that.” Sarcasm was strongly present in Aron’s words, Jorel just ignoring it.

A scoff then came from Jorel. “Anyway, you can look in my bag but I can’t look in yours?” Jorel bared his teeth, Aron taking a step back. “You can creep and judge what I’ve taken on tour, but God curse me if I wonder why you have unlabelled pill bottles in your bag.”

Aron looked… fearful. He had stopped walking towards Jorel and his hands were trembling. His mouth was slightly open, the hall so silent that you could hear the air he was breathing in and out. 

Danny didn’t get why he was so scared about Jorel finding them, was it something sinister?

“Aron, I thought we talked about this before.” Jorel looked disappointed. “You can’t survive off just protein shakes and vitamins. I’m so worried about your weight and especially as we are on tour, it’s even harder to eat things that aren’t unhealthy or things that have vegetables. You should become vegetarian…”

Aron relaxed, standing up straight as his mouth shut. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He snatched his bag back, clutching it tightly in his hands, his knuckles staining white. Aron speedily threw everything back in before chucking it back into his bunk. “Just… don’t go through my stuff, okay?” 

“Well, I wasn’t even looking for that, I was… oh, forget it.” Jorel turned his back to Aron and rolled his eyes, wandering over to Danny. “I don’t know why he even takes all of them; they won’t make him look any better. Just a waste of money.” Jorel muttered, speaking to himself. “Only a proper diet will solve his problems.”

That anger in Aron fired up again as Jorel drew closer to Danny, the man gritting his teeth harshly. That look was something Danny hadn’t seen before in Aron, it screaming something much more venomous than just jealously. He huffed like the horse he was before leaving, heading towards the front room again.

 _‘God, Dylan was right about calling him Jekyll and Hyde,’_ a pout came upon Danny’s face, watching Aron swiftly trudge off.

“He’s a strange one.” Danny whispered, hoping the skinny tyrant wouldn’t hear.

Jorel snorted and rolled his eyes again. “Oh, if only you knew. Knowing that skeleton for the past 25 years has done my head in.” He leaned into his own bunk, grabbing his phone. “Let’s follow him; we do need to check what we are doing today.” 

Danny just nodded, following and watching Jorel walk into the front room.

Everyone was sitting together; Jordon and Dylan on the sofa with Aron squished in between them, Matthew leaning up against the wall, on his phone. Aron frowned at both Danny and Jorel, Danny feeling unnerved.

As much as they fought, they were still friends- and Danny didn’t get that. Aron just seemed so obsessive and possessive over Jorel that it was just plain strange, and the fact that Jorel didn’t notice or didn’t care made it even worse. Aron gave the impression that only he could be friends with Jorel, and no one else could.

“Hey, Danny,” He looked up from the ground, Jorel’s voice snapping him out of his train of thought, “you want some?”

He was over by the counter, a tube of Pringles placed in his hands. A couple were stuffed into his mouth, crumbs flinging out as he spoke. Danny smiled, placing his hands getting ready to catch them. “Sure.”

Jorel snorted again, but it being one of laughter. “Here, George-”

As it landed in Danny’s hands, Jorel’s faced dropped, realising what he just said. He took a couple steps back, his slender fingers flying towards his mouth, covering it up as his eyes stretched wide open.

Jorel looked more than just bewildered, it was a mix of confusion and… _fear._

“Why do you look like him?” The words were shaky and weak. “Why-”

“Oh, for fuck sakes, Jorel!” Aron screamed, immediately rising to his feet, everyone looking around with uncertainty.

The air immediately became tense, the whole band expecting a massive fight to break out. Dylan looked like he was on edge, getting ready to jump in between them to tear them apart. He has probably done this a million times before, so Danny decided to just leave it all to him.

He pulled the hood down from his head, starting to wonder what he done wrong. How did he look like George? As far as he knew, they were nothing alike. Well, Danny couldn’t be too sure; he had no clue what the ghost was hiding under that mask. The shape of it was the closest thing that gave away George’s face, and that seemed to be nothing like Danny’s so, how was it possible…?

He thought.

.

.

.

His body turned even colder, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He held his breath as the reason _why_ finally hit him.

It was the hoodie.

And that wasn’t just any old-hoodie.

It _must_ be George’s hoodie.

The size, the smell; it all made sense. The arms were massive as well, like they had been stretched out; that would make sense for George.

Then, a faint memory of Aron’s and Jorel’s previous argument flashed in his brain, the words ringing in his ears. 

_“I know you still have his hoodie!” Aron pointed one of his bony fingers at Jorel’s chest. “You always carry the skanky thing round with you!”_

“Aron, chill.” Jordon walked up behind Aron, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t, touch, me.” Aron spit the words out with venom, his teeth sharp and pointed.

Jordon just nodded and gave his largest, fakest smile, walking out into the bunks like he didn’t have a care in the world, shouting- “good luck, Dylan!” Matthew also followed him, not being bothered at all by the scene unfolding in front of him, his eyes still glued to his phone. 

“Another domestic.” A voice snickered from the bunks.

“I used to think they were such a nice couple.”

“Anyway, who’s George?”

“Lord knows.”

“George can be the name we can give to the ghost!”

“I think Jeff would be better.” Matthew laughed.

Aron turned his head towards Jorel again, his fists turning even whiter at the sight of him. Jorel didn’t look away, his head held high.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we talk about this, does it?” He stalked towards the Italian. “You never learn, do you? You never listen, do you? You never think of MY feelings, do you?”

Jorel looked shocked. _“I,_ never think about _you?”_ He scoffed, shaking his head. “Haven’t you forgotten all the things I’ve done for you? All the things _he_ did for you?”

Dylan was still watching, his eyes darting from one to the other, his head completely still. It was like they had forgotten he was there and that they had forgotten the fact that he had no clue what or who they were talking about.

“What he done for me? What, like tear us apart, destroy our relationship, make us argue like this? He abused and used you. All he done was throw you around; kick and punch you when he was angry and you know that happened-” Aron pointed a finger at Jorel, “- _a lot.”_

No words came from Jorel, his mind brewing as he tried to think.

“Exactly, you can’t argue against that, can you?” He almost looked happy that Jorel had nothing to say. “He just manipulated you so much that you can’t realise what he done, so you can’t realise how much of a nasty piece of work he really was.”

“But-“

“2 DUI’s, been in police custody 16 times, arrested and prosecuted for theft, served a year and a half because of assault and all in 23 years.” Aron took a breather. “And that’s not even counting all the times he wasn’t caught; which happened to be most of the time. Oh, and don’t forget that he was accused of-”

“SHUT UP!” Jorel shouted, Aron silencing himself for once. “Sure, he upset me sometimes, but at the moment you are being WAY worse than he ever was!” Tears seemed to be at the corner of Jorel’s eyes, but he held them back.

The skinny man paused, his mouth open. His once-opened hands closed harshly, his knuckles sticking out of his fists. He ignored Jorel, his head twisting around to look at Danny.

“This all started again when _you_ came along.” Aron’s eyes glazed over, no light shining in them. “You always seem to be around, ruining everything!”

Danny gulped, pulling his hands up close to his chest protectively. 

“Aron…?” Dylan finally piped up, trying to stop him.

“You’re always sneaking around and listening to our conversations!” Aron took a step towards Danny, his lip curled. “I don’t even know why we let you into the band; none of the fans like you! We don’t like you either, no one does! You’re just a manipulative attention seeker who pretends he doesn’t have a clue on what’s going on. I can see the darkness in your eyes; you have the exact same look that _he_ did.”

“Aron!” 

“SHUT IT, DYLAN.” Aron screamed at the top of his lungs.

Dylan’s mouth instantly shut, flashing a glance at Danny. Danny couldn’t read it but guessed what it meant by Dylan patting the seat next to him. He did want to go over there to feel protected but he thought that if he tried to walk in front of Aron that he would be kicked to death, so he declined the offer and stood his ground.

The skinny tyrant turned his head towards Jorel. “Because one person is gone, you decide to replace him with someone else.” Aron became increasingly snarkier. “You even dress them up in the same clothes, call them the same name-”

“I JUST LENT HIM A HOODIE, THAT’S ALL I DID!” Jorel looked like he had gone mad, using quick hand gestures to get his point across.

“But it was _that_ hoodie.” Aron’s eyes darkened, his skin deathly pale.

“What did you want me to do then? Let Danny walk out into the front room with no shirt on? Or would of that made you jealous since he had some muscle on him while you only have bones?” Jorel twisted his head to the side. “In fact, I was going through your bag to find him a smaller t-shirt so he wouldn’t have to wear that, _not_ trying to look through your stuff.” 

“Well, you never told me that!”

“I didn’t think I would have to excuse myself from looking through my BEST FRIEND’S bag.” He turned his head away from Aron, refusing to look at him. 

“I thought George was your _best friend?_ I thought he was so special to you, the closest person you ever had. I thought that was why you are still mourning his death after 7 years of him being dead.” Aron narrowed his eyes. “7 years and you still haven’t given up. He is dead and you know that; you saw his body yourself- you found it after all.”

Jorel looked horrified, his hands shaking in shock. “How could you say that?” He didn’t even sound or look angry, just horrified.

No, it was more than just horror, his eyes tearing up as the memories came back to him. “You know how much that messed me up, you know how long I stayed up for with that image in my head, you know how many times I cried in a single day, you know how many hours of failed counselling I went through.” A tear ran down his cheek. “How could you forget that? Do you think I was really depressed for no reason?”

Aron didn’t respond, probably trying to think of the nastiest thing to say to Jorel. “You know what?” The skeleton started to bitterly laugh to himself, his teeth looking sharp and pointed as he did. “I’m glad he’s dead! He was nothing to me and never would be.”

The room fell into silence, the look on Jorel’s face making it seem like Aron had just killed George in front of his own eyes. 

Jorel no longer looked angry, just sad. It was horrible; tears rolling down the side of his cheeks. He was frozen to the spot, too shocked to say anything or to even try and move. It even shook Danny; the man wondering how Aron could hate George that much, how he could be so inconsiderate towards Jorel. 

_‘Sure, George was sort of scary but it wasn’t like it was in a bad way. What had he ever done to Aron? As far as he knew, Aron wasn’t the one with blood pouring out of his mouth.’_ Danny thought, half-tempted to say it out loud.

A pain started to suddenly brew inside of him, burning away at his core. Danny tried to ignore it, clutching the chest of the hoodie tightly.

“What the hell, Aron?” Dylan rose to his feet, confronting him.

“ _Don’t_ get involved in this, Dylan.”

“I don’t even know what or who you are talking about but you don’t need to act so rude; especially towards J.”

“It’s none of your business! This is all Jorel’s fault since he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Well, maybe if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t make him upset like that.”

The fire spread to the whole of his body, his arms starting to twitch and shake like he was losing control.

“He brought it upon himself-”

“NO, HE DIDN’T! You started the actual argument; you could have easily just brushed off what he said but no, you have to be Mr Strong and fight everyone, don’t you? Anyway, you were bringing stuff up about finding dead bodies and horrible shit like that- of course he is going to freak.”

Aron gritted his teeth, “IT’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF IT!” His eyes narrowed sharply. He turned away from Dylan and ignored him, suddenly spitting in Jorel’s direction, snarling as he turned his back to everyone and started to walk away.

Something inside Danny snapped, his body going limp yet…

He was still standing. 

Danny felt alarm stir inside him as he took a heavy step forward, his arms tensing. He tried to stop but, he just couldn’t. 

His pace quickened, his legs feeling oddly strange. This definitely wasn’t his own walk; this was a walk of someone who was _furious,_ someone who was beyond angry. 

But, Danny didn’t feel angry. He was annoyed, sure, but not _that_ bad. He didn’t even know anyone who could get this frustrated other than Aron.

It was almost like someone had placed the anger inside of him, his mind stirring as his head felt like it was about to explode. He could hear his blood rushing through his ears, his heartbeat drumming in time with his footsteps. It was like he was almost blinded, it being too late before he realised-

His fist was _sent_ flying, his knuckles cracking as they collided with the back of Aron’s skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good fun. don't worry about Aron or anyone else, they're all good friends now (jk.) Next chapter will be fun, we will actually get to see a bit of me trying to write about how they preform livee! and more beef. Now, have fun waiting another 60 years for chapter 11! (hopefully a month. )
> 
> Please tell me your opionon or theory or just please comment cause no one commented last time and I was sad :(


	11. George, we need to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAH took long enough. Nearly 2 months. sorry ive been busy with school and shit. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out this summer holiday as well. 4062 words
> 
> Written: 26th of July 2018

The music drummed throughout Danny’s ears, his hands clutching tightly around his microphone.

He lifted his head up, taking a deep breath, letting the sweaty but lively air enter his lungs. 

The crowd was dancing around, a mosh pit starting in middle of the concert hall. Their faces were lit with excitement, their eyes bright as the stars in the night sky.

It filled Danny with happiness, knowing that they as a band could bring so much joy just by performing their music for a little over an hour to hundreds of people they didn’t know. It was strange yet so intriguing at the same time.

Some of his family were watching from the balconies above, cheering and waving at him, their smiles giving away their feelings. He was glad that they were proud of him, Danny being slightly worried in the start that they would be ashamed that he had joined a band known for being highly involved in drugs and gang-activities. They aren’t as bad as they used to be, but Danny still couldn’t count how many times he had watched Dylan wobble into the tour bus, high on both acid and mushrooms.

But then, something caught his eye, a higher balcony becoming clear in his vision. 

Only one person was standing up there… standing on the balcony that was blocked off because it was unstable and crumbling…?

How did they get up there?

Since they were near the projectors, there was only a faint outline of a man up there, his appearance coming clearer as the lights flashed from colour to colour. They were tall and had massive shoulders, their hands resting on the railings. They were watching over everyone, their sharp eyes gliding from each singer to the next. The glowing blueness then met Danny, judgment falling upon him as he realised who it was.

George glared through him, reading and scanning him over and over again, never breaking contact. Those eyes were flashing with pain, his hands slipping off the rail as he straightened his back. They then narrowed before he looked away, now staring at Jorel, looking slightly sad.

Jorel was on the other side of the stage to Danny, standing on a platform as he played his electric guitar. He looked calm, his actions slow and graceful, his fingers gliding over each string, plucking away as he bopped his head along to the tune. A smile was on his face, his eyes shut and lips pursed as he concentrated on what note he would have to play next.

Danny raised an eyebrow- why was George so interested in him?

In fact, where is George?

There was no trace of him on the balcony anymore, just an empty space where he had been standing.

Danny shook himself out of it and turned to face the others, trying to spot where they were underneath the flashing strobe lights.

Matthew was behind him, playing the drums as usual, looking like he had gone mad by the way his hair was bouncing along with his erratic movements. Dylan was jumping near the front of the stage, doing his usual tricks such as taking his t-shirt off to hype up the crowd. Jorel was strumming away at his guitar, watching over all of their adoring fans with a big, goofy smile. Aron was also near the front, finishing up singing his chorus, Jordon getting ready to take over for the final song of the evening. 

Danny smiled and took the scene in, watching the smoke rise from the front of the stage, a strange feeling starting to stir inside of him.

His eyes drifted down to the mic in his hands, a violent twitch causing it to crash to ground. 

His fists balled up, all the veins popping out and his knuckles looking like they were about to burst out of his hand. Danny was shocked, only his eyes seeming to be able to move. His hands were starting to go white, twitching side to side as his muscles bulged out of his arms as a weird power spread throughout his body.

Danny reached out to try and pick up the microphone but he couldn’t move, it was almost like he had lost all of his energy to do so. He tried to stretch out again but it was to no avail, not even the tips of his fingers moving.

Danny took deep breaths, trying his best to gain control and find his inner peace, so the same thing that had happened _earlier_ wouldn’t happen again.

.

.

.

 

It wasn’t working.

He could feel a rage brewing inside of him, the fire burning away at his pure and innocent heart. It was spreading quickly, almost like a disease was taking over, like a _parasite_ was using him as host.

His hands were pulled up to his face, Danny’s eyes scanning over all the small details- every line, every dent and every scar. Scratches from earlier were still present on his knuckles, blood now drooling down them as they cracked open.

A bash of a drum intruded his thoughts, Danny now watching what was happening on stage. 

Jordon was at the front, singing about something deep and philosophical, swaying as he graciously moved to get his point across. Aron was next to him.

Aron…

A bruise was starting to form from what happened earlier, the back of his head looking red and swollen. It confused Danny; he wasn’t sure why he done it, he felt like it wasn’t actually him doing it in the first place, almost like someone was controlling him.

He felt himself take a step forward, realising what was about to happen.

Now he was starting to panic, his brain yelling at him to just stop. It was like someone was physically dragging him over, like he was a marionette in a sick, twisted show. He no longer had control of his own body, he no longer had control of-

Danny opened his mouth to shout out a warning but nothing escaped his lungs. He was barely breathing, feeling light-headed and dizzy as he started to run out of oxygen. All he could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears, the faint screams of a man in pain, the sound of blood dripping and then an object dropping. His vision was red, it being both a mix of blood and anger.

Aron was in full performance mode, smiling and lapping up all the attention he could possibly get. This was one of the only times a smile was on his face, acting like what went on earlier had never happened. He didn’t have a care in the world, meaning that he also didn’t realise Danny, unknowingly, was sneaking up behind him. 

Danny was now quickly becoming more and more alarmed. Life had gone into slow motion- or was it a dream? God, this was one hell of a fucked-up dream if it was.

Danny’s hands then unclenched, straightening themselves out as his shoulders rose as they tensed up even further as he neared to Aron. His arms moved up towards his torso as his entire body drew closer to the skeleton, the anger being at the highest levels it had ever been.

This anger wasn’t his; there was no way it belonged to him- it just wasn’t in his nature.

It was clawing away at him, his insides being scorched alive as the demon inside of him grew larger and larger, its influence becoming even stronger than it already was. Blood was welling in his throat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Darkness was swarming around the corner of his vision, Danny feeling like he was going to faint.

Everything was building up inside of him, feeling like he was rather going to implode or combust- whatever happened first.

It was like two parts of him were fighting, at war over what he wanted to do. One half of him wanted to run away from this controlling force that was making him act the way he did but, the other half was foreign, it didn’t belong to Danny. It sang the songs of death, the lullabies of cruel murder and screeches of man. This energy was stronger than any human to walk the earth, stronger than any monster – even the one who used to live under his bed. 

It was suffocating, distracting him from what was about to happen-

He felt his fingers jab into Aron’s shoulder blades, his nails sinking in as a high-pitched squeal was released into the air, he then felt the rest of his hand pushing up against his back. Aron started to turn his head, his eyes wide and pupils dilated as another pulse of power pushed itself through Danny’s arms, Aron now losing his balance. 

Danny’s hands grasped onto his tank-top, Danny pulling him slightly back like he was a rag doll. He knew that Aron had done nothing wrong to him and that Aron would _never_ hurt him; so why was he trying to attack Aron?

Danny’s mouth opened, directly speaking into Aron’s ear. It was only a whisper, it was light and soft but it was filled with a venom, a hatred that burned deep. 

**“You bastard.”**

Then, Danny let one of his hands go, the other still tightly gripped. He pulled Aron back before violently swinging him forward, a shriek releasing from the skeleton as he went flying into the crowd. As he fell awkwardly through the air, that whisper kept repeating itself in Danny’s ear. 

**“You bastard.”**

**“You bastard.”**

**“You _bastard._ ”**

Aron crashed on top of the fans, Danny’s blood running cold as the tone and pitch of the voice registered in his mind, goosebumps now layering his arms. The feeling of running was stronger than ever but he still couldn’t move, immobilised by this ghostly force. All Danny wanted to do at this moment was hide in his bunk with his soft blankets, and forget that any of this had ever happened, or that he would suddenly wake up and realise that this had been just another disturbing dream.

The group who had started the mosh pit began bouncing Aron up and down, passing him along all of his adoring fans, them believing that he was crowd surfing and this was all just a joke pre-planned to hype the crowd before the end of the show.

But it wasn’t.

Danny then went limp, falling to the floor, his energy gone.

All of the power drained from him, Danny taking a deep breath as he could finally breathe freely without the feeling of a knife in his neck. 

Shouting filled his ears as there was running around on stage, his eyes seeing a foggy mist evaporate from his arms and entire body, the weird fog moving towards the back of the concert hall, no one seeming to notice it except Danny.

Defeatedly, he shut his eyes, succumbing to the darkness now cloaking him in its soft and comforting arms…

 

.

 

 

.

 

 

.

“You think he’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, he should be fine. He probably just got a bit overwhelmed.”

“But what about the-”

“Wait, guys, look! He’s waking up!”

The voices became clearer and their owner's came more in focus as his eyes squinted open, 3 blurry figures peering down and looking at him.

“He’s alive!” Dylan exclaimed, a big smile on his face.

Matthew rolled his eyes and stepped back, giving Danny some room to breathe, everyone else doing so. “Of course he is, idiot.”

Dylan gasped with shock before narrowing his eyes. “I’m just acting concerned- unlike _someone_ else.”

“Woah woah, calm.” Jordon interrupted their fight. “Let’s focus on Mr-Faint-On-Stage here, not ourselves.”

Danny blushed, everyone now looking at him. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jordon shrugged, “you got us out of packing up, that job has been left to Jorel and-”

“Aron! Is he okay?” Danny almost shouted, sitting up straight as he peered around, reality smacking him in the face.

“Oh yes, I’m _perfectly_ fine.” Aron spat as he stalked up out of nowhere.

His long, black, emo hair was drooping over his face, his dark-brown eyes sharp as needles. His normally stick-looking fingers were clenched up into tight balls, his arm all red and starting to bruise from when he had fallen earlier. His tank top was ruffled, his trousers barely touching his skinny legs because they were so baggy. Jorel was a couple of steps behind him, a look of concern on his face.

“Anyway, lets save the questions to when we’re on the bus, _not_ in a professional setting.” Aron rolled his eyes, walking off outside the building, muttering to himself, Jorel right at his heels.

Matthew followed before everyone else bundled off, leaving Danny running after them.

The night air was cold, it tingling and burning away at Danny’s skin. The wind ran across his body, covering every inch and crevasse of his torso. It didn’t bother him; he was so used to it in the bunks that it almost felt _comforting._

All his brain was focusing on was one thing: what the hell happened earlier? 

Never in his right mind would he do something like that! He wasn’t raised to be violent, he wasn’t raised to be a _savage._ God, what would his parents think of him- they must of seen all of what happen! They’d think he was possessed by some vengeful spirit…

Oh wait…

“Danny.” Jorel stopped walking altogether, letting everyone walk past as he waited. “What happened back there?”

He was lost for words, his mouth dry and empty. 

“I mean…” Jorel stopped speaking and thought about what he was going to say. “It just didn’t seem like you.”

That caught Danny’s attention, the man no longer looking at the floor in shame. “How?”

“Well, you walked differently, you stood differently, you acted differently, hell, you even _looked_ different.”

_“How?”_

Jorel gulped, now refusing to look at Danny as worry crawled across his face.

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, his eyes filled with pain as he clearly remembered a past memory. He was fiddling with his hands, nearly tripping up where he wasn’t concentrating.

Danny continued to stare at him, Jorel finally deciding to speak. 

“Your… your eyes, they weren’t yours.”

“Hmm?” Danny pretended to play dumb.

“Y-y…y… FORGET IT!” Jorel sprinted off, heading towards the tour bus.

He ran past everybody else, both Jordon and Dylan turning to watch him. Jordon raised an eyebrow at Danny, and Danny could only shrug, his mind wandered as he became lost in thought.

As he passed Aron, the other man’s pace quickened as he tried to catch up with him, the grumble of his voice obvious as he tried talking to Jorel to calm him down, which didn’t seem too effective.

Jorel practically threw himself through the bus door, slamming it shut behind him straight into Aron’s face. A scoff came from Aron, before he pushed his way through and followed him, the faint sound of Aron shouting echoing out.

Matthew looked around, confused, before deciding not to get involved, looking back at the floor as he stepped up on to the bus. Jordon and Dylan wedged themselves through the narrow door at the same time, both as stubborn as each other as they refused to be patient and polite, looking around to see where Jorel had ran off to.

Danny was _struck-_ but he wasn’t sure by what. What was Jorel alluding to? Did he know it was George? How did he even _know_ George?

As far as Danny knew, they had some-sort of relationship but it didn’t seem too…

It then clicked.

That’s why Jorel was crying all the time. That’s why he hated Aron talking badly about him. That’s why he was so hesitant over doing the Ouija Board. That’s why he wanted to deny the ‘ghost’ in the bunk. That’s why he was so defensive over the ‘G’ joke he made. That’s why he was in that _photo._ That’s why he was so possessive over that hoodie. That’s why he is mourning.

Because of George.

Aron did have a point though, it had been 7 years since he died. 

They must have been close.

Danny stepped up onto the tour bus, a screech colliding with his ears.

“WHAT WAS ALL THAT ABOUT?” Aron shoved his finger into Danny’s chest, trying his best to push Danny over. 

Danny took a step back, not really shocked.

He looked down at the floor, shame falling upon him like a blanket had been thrown over him. It clung to him, weighing him down, it feeling like his shoulders were nearly touching the ground. A flurry of thoughts rushed round his head, guilt now shaking him as he searched for excuses that Aron might possibly believe.

“Come on then, what is it?” Aron snarled, attempting to loom over Danny, puffing out his chest. 

Danny knew that he wouldn’t believe the truth, that no one would. It sounded so fake and made up when said out loud, Aron was probably going to think that Danny said it on the spur of the moment to try and shift the blame off himself.

Just as he was about to speak-

His hands tightly clenched to his t-shirt as he leaned over, a pain slicing him in half. Danny let out a shriek, tears running down his cheeks as it felt like his insides were being pulled out of him, something yanking at them as hard as it could. 

“Danny, are you alright?” The voice was faint. “Danny? Bro, come on, stop. You know I don’t like jokes like this.” Aron was trying to be sarcastic and funny but it wasn’t working, the same evil rage as before building back up inside of Danny.

“Get away, I-I don’t want to hurt you.” Danny mumbled, knowing he was losing control, his arms twitching like crazy.

Aron was still hovering around, Danny feeling his breaths hitting the back of his neck.

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Danny’s acting strange again and I’m worried.”

**“No you’re not.”**

Danny threw his hands to the side of his head, covering up his ears before realising he didn’t hear George say that.

He said that himself.

Aron was looking at him with wide and terrified eyes, dread painted onto his sunken-in head. A terrified and pained expression was on his face, what-looked-like sheer horror stained on, as he must have recognised the voice.

He was frozen to the spot, his jaw nearly touching the floor. A small croak of his voice just barely made its way out like a ghost sneaking out of its grave. “How…?”

As Danny was about to respond, the feeling of pain was flushed from him, leaving him empty and cold. George must’ve given up, Danny feeling relieved but slightly alarmed since he had guessed that George doesn’t let anyone get the better of him.

“Danny.” Aron sounded more collected now, more controlled than before. “Dude, what’s going on? You’ve been acting so weird.”

It was strange seeing Aron act like an adult, since most of the time he was throwing tantrums or shouting or attacking someone. It was a nice change for once, but just like George, it was rather concerning. 

“You never used to act like this,” Aron started walking up to Danny, “you can tell us, we’re your best bro’s, not people you should hide from.” He placed his hands onto Danny’s shoulders, not realising the mistake he had just made.

Something inside Danny snapped, his hand curling into a tight ball before striking itself across Aron’s face, sending the man crashing to the floor with a girly scream. 

This wasn’t Danny doing this; there was no way it could be.

He went lunging forward, throwing himself on top of Aron. Danny’s fist was raised again, smashing back down onto Aron’s face, a crack echoing as it collided with Aron’s nose. The other ball of fury went straight towards Aron’s neck but was caught by the skeleton, Aron screaming something that Danny couldn’t understand.

Shouting was going on behind them, people running around as they were most likely trying to find someone to diffuse the situation.

Aron started to lash back out at Danny but his efforts were nothing against Danny’s strength- no, George’s strength.

George was a beast of nature; Danny’s muscles aching and whining at him as George used them to carry out his vengeful deeds. It was simply George’s ferocious power being used in Danny’s body.

Danny’s hands wrapped themselves around Aron’s stick-like neck, the man starting to choke. Danny panicked, trying his best to let go but he couldn’t, George’s rage controlling every movement down to his breathing and blinking.

Aron was starting to go blue, horrid noises coming from his mouth and throat as his eyes started to roll into the back of his head.

There was then a soft touch on Danny’s shoulder, Danny swiftly turning his attention away from Aron to the other person, decking them straight in the mouth, his heart feeling like it was sinking. 

It was Jorel.

Jorel jumped back in shock and pain, covering his mouth as his eyes watered.

 **“I’m sorry-”** George’s words started coming from Danny but were cut off as he was grabbed by someone.

Large hands pushed him up against the bus window, separating the two fighting demons. He was squished up against the wall, just able to see Jordon squatting down by Aron, helping him stand up. Jorel just looked at Danny, watching him with big orbs.

“Calm…” Dylan’s soft and deep baritone words whispered in Danny’s ears, his grip loosening slightly, giving Danny some room to breathe.

He took a deep breath, making sure George was no longer lurking inside of his body. 

Danny lifted his head up to look out the window, only to be met with his grim and dark reflection.

A pair of cold, icy blue, narrowed eyes were staring back at him, more specifically, Danny’s eyes had changed colour and shape and he could now see what Jorel was talking about earlier; why he got so spooked by it.

“George…” Danny muttered, Dylan eavesdropping.

“Who’s George?”

 

.

 

.

 

.

Danny flopped down onto his bed in the bunks, exhausted. With a deep sigh, he rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall opposite him.

His mind casted over what had happened that evening and the fact that he had to convince his best and closest friends that he was just being ‘grumpy’ and that he was tired because of being stressed from touring. They sent him to bed after that, just like a naughty child.

Danny was actually rather glad they had done that; it gave him sometime to think just like he was doing now. It gave him the time to think about what the hell was going on. 

It was almost funny how everything seemed to fall into place; all the missing parts of this strange episode suddenly being explained- Jorel and Aron’s conversations, the butterflies, just George in general.

Everything was just so strange; Jorel is always so sad, Aron acts like he doesn’t care and George is angry. It seems like he hates Aron with a passion but, that wouldn’t explain the photo of all of them in the house. It wouldn’t explain it because that photo was taken before George died- they all looked young and happy.

It might be that they all used to be friends but Aron and Jorel turned their backs on him? Maybe this was his way of feeling better about what happened? Whatever that was. But, this wouldn’t explain why he died so young, why it looked like he had been _murdered._

They wouldn’t kill anybody, would they?

Danny let out a groan, an idea popping into his mind.

He knew what he needed to do; he knew what he _had_ to do. It was for the best, to keep everyone else in the band safe from what had been happening recently. He didn’t want his body to be attacking his friends, whilst his mind was screaming at him to stop. He was frightened for everyone but most of all- for himself. He frightened of what he might be made to do. 

“George,” he sighed, “we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment I like talking to people. next chapter, expect some big reveals and lots of drama. there will only be 2 main characters really in the next one and 2 minor, so you can guess who they are >:)


	12. He took it all from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5429 words. hahaaaa a week later and the next chapter is already out! how rare! anyway, im sure y'all will enjoy this one ;;)))))))
> 
> Written: 1st of August 2018

Danny’s sleepy eyes opened, trying his best to focus and take in the scene around him.

Fear tingled across his spine as the realisation of where he was suddenly hit him. 

He was back in that disgusting house; the house of nightmares. 

He let out one of his infamous groans before jumping to his feet, a tang of edginess lurking inside of him, a wave of dizziness then striking him. He lifted a hand to his head and placed one on the wall beside him, waiting to get his balance back.

His eyes peered around, Danny now realising he was in the hallway. Grease lined the peeling wall paper, lice jumping over his feet. Danny took a step back in disgust, feeling like he was going to throw up. He stamped on the small pest, turning his attention back to where he was. The same stains were splattered up the walls; tea, coffee, alcohol, and something that Danny didn’t even want to think about. The same dust covered the blood-red carpet, crumbs and grit spread throughout the hallway. The same pair of shoes were at the bottom of the stairs, dirt starting to crust around the edges.

The house was just the same as before.

He turned his head to the side, gazing at the photo’s resting on the stand. Danny wandered over, picking up the picture of the three boys together, still slightly surprised at how young they all looked.

Hold on... There was something different, though.

He twisted the picture frame to the side, something catching his attention.

It wasn’t cracked anymore and the photo was no longer ripped which meant…

He could see George’s face.

As Danny expected, those deep, blue eyes were shining back at him. He wasn’t angry, in fact, he looked rather smug. There was a small grin on his face, showing off his white, perfectly-straight teeth. His hair had clearly been dyed black but was now fading, it was smoothed back by a tiny bit of gel. He had fairly tanned skin, his face clean of all blemishes and spots. Good jaw structure, eyebrows that blended nicely into his face, a tiny bit of scruff, enchanting eyes, ears that didn’t stick out, a thick neck, nice lips but lots of attitude. A smile crept over Danny’s face.

George honestly looked like your average heart-breaker.

Danny then remembered the task at hand, placing the frame back down. He never thought that George would look like that but then again, he had never seen him unmasked until today. Before, all Danny knew was what he saw; a tall, muscular, violent and scary man with a bad temper with big blue eyes, which left Danny to wonder _why_ Jorel was friends with him.

A tapping noise caught his attention. It was coming from one of the other rooms he hadn’t been in and, as much as his curiosity wanted to go in there and see what it was, he knew it wouldn’t be something good, regarding the fact that everything else that has happened in this house seemed to be bad. He decided to look in a room he’d been in a couple of times just to put off looking in the room next door.

He peered into the kitchen before taking a step in, a breeze coming through the vent in the small window at the back. It looked the same as the last time; the draw shut, no knives out or anything that may kill him. Danny opened up the cupboard where he got the glass from before, surprised that it hadn’t been moved an inch.

It was strange; he’d touched it and even moved it to the sink, so how did it end back into the same spot as it was before? The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine, it giving him a weird feeling.

Did this place almost _‘reset’_ itself every couple of hours? Danny started to feel even more uneasy.

This was literally a never-ending nightmare.

The tapping intruded his thoughts again, so he decided to venture into that unknown room. He took a jaded step in, darkness meeting him immediately. It was pitch black, Danny just able to see the faint outlines of furniture and a window. He then felt around for a light switch before turning it on, there being a slight flicker before the whole room was illuminated.

In the corner of the room, there was a dinner table with 3, manky, old, wooden chairs around it. Wrappers and crumbs littered the surface of the table, empty dishes piled up which clearly smelled like they needed washing a few years ago. On the other side of the room, there was also a small section that had 2 single, sofa-type chairs with one plastic, foldy-up chair, all of them surrounding a small coffee table which had lewd magazines on it. 

Danny nearly jumped out of his own skin when he looked a bit closer. George was sitting on one of the sofa seats, his feet resting on the coffee table. His white t-shirt was no longer stained with blood, in fact, he didn’t have one drop on him. His mask was clean, no more of the crimson liquid resting around the eyes, nose or mouth, which made a nice change. Even though Danny saw this as good, one of George’s legs was shaking up and down nervously, the man also rapidly tapping his finger on the armrest. He wasn’t relaxed one bit, his back stiffly straightened. 

Danny took a deep breath before walking over and sitting on the sofa opposite George. He was going to say something but he was lost for words, his mouth opening but to only shut as nothing came out. Danny felt worried about how anxious George was acting, why? Well, nothing seemed to scare George, so it must be serious.

Danny watched George for a second, trying to interpret his body language. His pupils were heavily dilated, his arms twitching and jaw tightly clenched, almost like he was waiting for something bad to happen at any moment. Those normally striking eyes were blank, staring at the floor as he just simply sat there, shivering.

Danny finally spoke. “George, we need to talk.” 

He didn’t respond.

Danny knew he had to be assertive, not to act scared. “George, don’t ignore me. I’m being serious.”

 **“ITS NOT MY FAULT.”** He didn’t move. **”I DON’T WANT TO DO IT, I _HAVE_ TO DO IT.”**

“What? Why?”

**“I CAN’T REST LIKE THIS, I CAN’T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH IT. I KNOW I COULD’VE STOPPED WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT, BUT I DIDN’T. IM JUST TRYING TO GET MY WELL-DESERVED REVENGE.”**

“On who?”

George stayed quiet, twisting his head around to look out the darkened window. It was blank, just like the others, only darkness swarming around inside of it. George, like before, must’ve been able to see something out there, his eyes moving as he watched the mysterious object, still looking really tense.

“On _who?_ ” Danny repeated again, but in a more stern manner. 

George scoffed but refused to look at Danny, rolling his eyes. **“WHO DO YOU REALLY THINK?”**

“Why are you using me? I had nothing to do with this before you dragged me in!” Danny decided to ignore his question, not wanting to know the answer nor answer it himself. “And you’ve got to stop with this body taking-over business! I didn’t give you permission and I never would!” Danny snarled. “I am not your puppet and you don’t control me.”

**“YOU LET ME IN. IT WASN’T MY FAULT YOU DIDN’T LISTEN TO DYLAN AND JOREL.”**

“But… They said others had slept in that bunk! So why didn’t you go after them?”

George thought about what he was going to say, putting his hand to his chin before sitting motionless for a moment, looking like he was debating whether or not to tell Danny. **“YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.”** He gave a stern reply.

“Try me.” 

He lifted his hand away from his face, placing it back down onto the armrest. **“WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME, ITS GOING TO START AGAIN.”** George started to shake his leg even quicker.

Danny was even more confused, looking around the room as he was trying to decipher what he was saying. “Look, why are you using me?”

 **”I TOLD YOU-“** A massive twitch went through George’s body, the man taking a deep gasp of air, almost like it just had been sucked from him, **“-HE TOOK IT ALL FROM ME.”** His voice was heavily pained, now speaking in a completely different tone. **“I’LL RETURN THE FAVOUR. I HAD MY WHOLE FUTURE PLANNED OUT PERFECTLY, BUT _HE TOOK IT FROM ME._ I WAS MEANT TO HAVE A NICE HOUSE, A LOVELY PARTNER, A FUCKING CHILD. I WAS MEANT TO HAVE A DAUGHTER! BUT I CAN’T NOW, CAN I? I’M DEAD.”** George turned away from the window so he could look at Danny straight in the eyes, his hands tightly clutched to the arm of the chair, looking like he was about to rip it open.

He then tilted his head towards the floor in front of him. George was just rambling now, whispering inaudible words to himself, making Danny feel almost bad and worried for him. It sounded like he had finally lost the plot, that he had finally gone mad. George’s eyes kept looking from place to place; from his feet to the legs of the coffee table, there being an occasional head twitch as he waited, his mouth still running.

Danny was able to pick up some of the words. **“I SHOULDN’T… DRUNK… STAY AT J’S… I SHOULD’VE… STAYED AT HOME… NEVER BEEN FRIENDS WITH HIM… BEEN MORE ALERT… ITS ALL MY FAULT.”**

“What do you want me to do?” Danny slightly hesitated. “How can I help you?” He pleaded, George becoming eerily silent as he thought.

It took a moment. **”YOU KNOW WHAT YOU NEED TO DO.”** His answer was followed by a violent twitch, George’s body starting to fade away.

“What?” Danny began to tremble.

**“KILL HIM.”**

“Who?” 

George turned to look at Danny, his eyes glowing a bright blue, not answering his question. He just stared at Danny, another twitch causing all of his arms to tense up, the man still waiting for the other to give him the answer he wanted. 

Danny hesitated in doing so, clearly knowing what George wanted to hear. “Y-you want me to kill Aron, don’t you?”

George kept looking at him, a fire burning in his eyes. He lifted his hand to the back of his head, fiddling with the straps of his mask. With a click, it fell off, but where he was fading, his face could barely be seen. He knocked it onto the floor, moving his feet off the coffee table to only stand up and stomp on his mask, it evaporating into thin air.

Danny was being blinded by his bright eyes, the light quickly spreading over all of his vison, causing Danny to move his hands up to his face, trying to shield himself. It was burning his skin but he refused to move, determined to get George to answer all of his questions but, it was too much to handle. Danny let out a small squeak of shock, the sofa behind him suddenly disappearing, Danny feeling like that he was now floating in mid-air.

He reached out to grab something but he felt nothing, Danny still squinting his eyes tightly shut. He believed that if he was to even open his eyes up by a mere millimetre, his sense of sight would be gone forever and be replaced by pure and total darkness. 

Danny opened his mouth to shout out one last thing, a plea of help, but nothing came out.

 **”YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO HELP ME! BUT YOU WON’T NOW, WILL YOU?”** The voice was faint and far away. **“YOU’RE JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE; YOU NEVER KEEP YOUR PROMISES!”**

With a flash, everything was completely white, Danny dissociated from the space around him and reality, now floating in a mindless vacuum. 

God, why did he ever come here? This was the worst decision he could’ve ever made. This would be where he would die; the band were probably going to find him on his bed with no pulse. He didn’t want to die, it wasn’t meant to be, he was meant to live. He had his future ahead of him; his daughter, his wife, his family!

Just like George…

Another wave of air entered his lungs, filling them up till they were about to burst, Danny using this chance to try and say one more thing to the ghost, one more thing to calm George’s raging spirit.

“Wait, George, stop-!” 

And then, everything turned black.

.

 

.

 

.

“See you soon, George!”

“Yeah, see you later.” George turned his back to Jorel, giving him a _final,_ brief, wave over the shoulder before walking away, starting to make his way back home.

The early morning air was absolutely _freezing,_ George pulling his black jacket around himself even tighter. It gave him goosebumps, George able to feel his arm hairs poke up against his sleeves. It was bitter, frigid and crisp, probably the furthest thing from being soothing or refreshing. His lungs felt like they had been chipped with ice, frost thickly lining his throat. George gulped, trying his best to warm himself up by breathing into his hands but only foggy-air came out, it immediately evaporating. 

He regretted not wearing something more suited to match the winter weather, but George prioritised looking good rather than being practical, even as stupid as that sounded. The rule was ladies first, then health and warmth.

George pulled his flip phone out his trouser pocket, his hands seeming large as he held the small object. He used his thumb to click the ‘on’ button but it didn’t light up, George furrowing his eyebrows. Using more force, he pushed it, only for it to remain blank, again. _’Must be out of charge,’_ George thought, flipping it shut with a low grumble.

His foot hit a stone, George not paying attention to his surroundings, partly tripping up. The phone went flying out of his hands, smashing to the floor, small shards of plastic flying out. “Oh, fuck.” Once he had regained his balance, he went to pick it up, swearing even more under his breath. It would probably still work, which was good enough for him.

George turned the corner, now entering a long walkway that ran behind a bunch of shops, including a restaurant. He could just about see the kitchen light coming from some high-up windows, it slightly flickering as people rushed around. Someone’s shouts could be heard, ordering everybody else around in a foreign language, there also being a quiet sound of people moaning. The people of Hollywood wanted and needed a lot of food, so having to scream at people to get what you wanted was no surprise. The back door was then bashed open, an angry looking Asian man storming out. His hands were gripped onto a black sack full of rotting food, which George could foully smell. The chef opened up a tall bin before throwing it out, turning his nose up in disgust. He then caught sight of George, giving him a filthy look before he stalked back towards the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him. George took a slight offence to it, speeding up his walking in annoyance.

The faint sound of sirens was ringing in the background, as usual. Hollywood was filled with lots of crooks and criminals so the sound of police cars speeding around was no surprise. Laughter came from probably the group who were running away from them, giggling as they sprinted across what-sounded-like the main road, cars swerving and angry drivers honking at them to warn the reckless teens. 

The postcode may be Hollywood, but you wouldn’t see any A-list actors in this area.

He entered the start of the long stretch of alleyway, George now in the last section of light for a good 20 minutes. The darkness didn’t bother him as much as it used to; he’d walked down this way so many times that he could probably do it with his eyes shut. It was the quickest way to get home after partying but, it probably wasn’t the safest, George not able to count all the drug addicts and homeless bums he’s bumped into.

A man then, coincidentally, wandered up to him, dirt littering his face. “Got a light?”

“Umm…” George thought about it before sighing, something in his cold, dead heart becoming warm for a slight moment. “Sure.” He pulled it out his pocket along with a cigarette, his phone nearly dropping onto the floor again, the man suddenly snatching the cig.

“Ooo, thanks! I’d rather have this!” The man was laughing with pure and total joy as he wobbled away, George watching him with narrowed eyes.

That was his last cigarette probably for the rest of the week, having spent all of his money on booze. Even though he wanted to do something, he let the man go without a hassle, knowing what it was like to have nothing and how far you would go to get what you needed. George just shrugged his shoulders, continuing his venture back home without a second thought.

All the noise of the party-scene was now fading into the distance, George no longer able to hear the giggling of the party-girls and the shouting of burly men, the only thing remaining being the slight ringing of bass in his ears which hadn’t left since the nightclub. The bright, reflective light of the full moon was now the only thing guiding him home, George having passed the last lamp post when he gave the cigarette away.

He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, trying his best to stay somewhat warm, his eyes shifting from place to place nervously, only able to see the shadows of the night dancing around him. A strong feeling started to reside inside of him, it being like a weird, itchy-sensation. It was the notion that someone was following him, George swearing that every time he came to a sudden, immediate halt, he could hear an extra footstep come from behind him.

It was probably just someone else also walking home, right? George wished so, hoping not to get jumped tonight. The street he lived on was a well-known crashing place for party-goers so, everyone knew everyone. 

He stopped walking, turning his head around to try and see if anybody was actually following him. George strained his icy eyes, staring deep into the gloomy walkway, no visible outlines of anybody standing there. He felt stupid now, but he was still paranoid, the feeling not shifting, George trying to blame it on the fact he had drank a lot that night- like every night.

Out of all the nights he’d spent partying, this one started off as the worst. They’d shown up early since Aron had told both Jorel and George that they were handing out free shots- which turned out to be a complete and utter lie. For some reason, Jorel didn’t get angry, unlike George who started to have a go at him. Aron was of course, defensive, Jorel being the brave soul to diffuse the situation. He split them up, sending George over to stay at the bar. It wasn’t even exciting there; just a few, sad people walking around like zombies, aimlessly trying to find some girl to hit on.

At around 10pm, Aron suddenly left which was… strange, but good. He told both George and Jorel that he felt ‘sick’ and thought he was going to ‘faint’ but when offered help, he denied it before escaping the nightclub, trying his best to leave as quickly as possible. He had only had a couple of drinks before he left and he always ran on an empty stomach, so George wasn’t too sure on how he felt ‘sick’. George just thought that he had made two arrangements to go out drinking, the other choice clearly better than hanging around Jorel and George. George also had a theory that he went on a sneaky date and if so, God bless that girl and her failing eyesight. 

But, at around 11pm, things started to spice up. Both Jorel and George let lose, neither of them remembering how many shots of whiskey, vodka and tequila they had done. Jorel done a tab of ecstasy on the dance floor but, George was luckily able to restrain himself, not wanting to have another relapse, though, it didn’t really matter in the end. Part of him wished he did do it.

Now looking back on it, after that whole shenanigan of Aron being a big puss, Jorel became a lot happier. He was most relaxed; getting closer to people on the dance floor and not worrying about someone constantly watching him and controlling his every movement. 

George just couldn’t understand why they were still friends- Aron just puts a black cloud over everything, weighing down the atmosphere of fun, always wanting to be around Jorel and to never leave him alone, especially when George is there. He was a nasty piece of work that would do whatever he could to isolate Jorel just so he could have him all to himself. George couldn’t count all the times he’d seen Jorel crying his eyes out just because he wanted to spend time around somebody else other than Aron.

That’s why George didn’t like him, because he made Jorel cry.

George could admit that sure, he has hurt Jorel in many ways, including physically. Aron would always bring up the fact that when he was 14, he broke Jorel’s wrist by shoving him to the floor while they were arguing over the fact that George was dating Jorel’s older sister. Hell, it was an accident! The fight that is. Aron would always say that it was unfair and that George knew what he was doing since ‘he was the 14-year-old while Jorel was only 11 and trying to protecting his family’, completely ignoring the fact that he knows that George has always had a bad temper. He knew that didn’t excuse his behaviour but still…

He tried to shake the memory, knowing that the mere thought of Aron would put him in a bad mood. 

George tried to remember something positive about the night. His mind wandered for a while, trying to remember something amongst his drunken state. 

When buying some more drinks for himself and Jorel, he met a cute girl. She had long, brown, flowing hair; beautiful, warm, hazelnut eyes; short stature; a pretty face; nice boobs. She was _perfect._ They chatted for a while before she asked him for his number, something George happily gave. She did tell him her name but… George had forgotten it.

Call it bad or not, but George didn’t see much point in remembering it in the first place. If he gives them his number, they’ll just say their name when they first text him, so it would be a win win situation for everyone. Anyway, what’s the purpose of doing it when you know you’ll be going onto the next girl in a matter of days. It would just be a waste of memory. 

A sudden urge overcame him and he had to stop for a ‘comfort’ break, trying his best not to piss on his shoes. He let out a satisfying sigh, followed by a whiskey-smelling belch, making him smile. George guessed that all the drinking he had done that night finally caught up with him, like every night.

George continued to make his way back home, feeling refreshed after his little stop, also relieved that he didn’t end up being attacked that night. Guess it was just the paranoia from all the alcohol, right?

He reached the end of the alley, able to see his house from where he was standing. George guessed that someone was home since he could see the downstairs light on. He didn’t enjoy the idea of being shouted at so, he decided not to cook any drunk food. Last time he done that, he nearly set the kitchen alight at 4am, leading to him being screamed at by his roommates so, going straight to bed seemed like the best idea. 

See, he could have easily driven home by now but by law, he isn’t allowed to. George was on his 2nd DUI and has now had his licence suspended for 6 months. It was rather extreme and George was not one bit happy about it. It really just turned out to be another tool Aron could use against him whenever they got into their heated arguments of how much of a _‘bad person’_ he is.

Aron was just a pest, at least in George’s eyes. He knew that if he pushed George hard enough, he would explode, most likely to threaten and possibly even attack Aron, which wasn’t too good. Why wasn’t it? Because Aron would go running to Jorel, accusing George of all sorts of heinous crimes that he didn’t commit, creating an even larger argument. It would always end in the same way; Jorel telling George that he ‘needs to be nicer’ and to ‘just ignore Aron.’

It wasn’t as easy as that, and George knew it. He’d spent the longest time trying ignore his little antics, trying to just brush it off and think that everything would resolve itself and they will magically end-up being friends.

But its been 13 years, and George was done with him, in fact, he was done with him a long time ago.

George narrowed his eyes, trying to shake the image but he just couldn’t, his mind now swirling with rage as he thought about it more and more.

Aron would always interrupt him when speaking, flirt with his girlfriends, make fun of what he was wearing! How could he go so low just to wind him up? And oh, don’t get George started on all the name-calling, teasing, bringing up his childhood in front of guests and worst of all…

Touching him.

The smallest poke or even a feel of a finger could easily throw George into a spitting rage. Aron knew this, so why would he do it? Why would he slap him on the back, hug him tightly and _place his hands on his shoulders_ whilst talking to him? It made George feel like a child.

Just the thought of that little weasel made George start to shake in anger, as he took a step up to his front door. 

He harshly pulled his keys out of his pockets, fiddling around to try and find the right one. George pretty-much stood there for a good 5 minutes, getting angrier and angrier by the second before finally finding the front door key, which was very rusty.

George had never had 20/20 vision, it being more like 4/20 vision and drinking definitely didn’t help with it, George barely able to see the ground below him. He stabbed at the lock, eventually getting lucky.

He twisted the handle and entered his house, looking around.

“Yo! Is anybody home?” George then realised his mistake, covering up his mouth, getting ready to be told off. He shushed himself, placing his finger over his lips, starting to laugh as he felt stupid.

There was no reply telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’, so he guessed he had the entire house to himself.

George leaned against the wall, using his left foot to pull his right shoe off and vice versa. He left his shoes on the floor, nearly tripping up them as he started to climb the stairs in a stealth like fashion, making him laugh again, all thoughts of Aron leaving his mind.

Once he was up, he swore he could hear someone down in the kitchen. Cupboards were opening and being slammed shut, George just thinking that it was one of his roommates trying to satisfy their munchies. 

_‘How ironic; I get shouted at if I make food but they can get away with it,’_ George rolled his eyes, continuing to walk to his bedroom.

He walked past the bathroom, thinking. He had a wee earlier, so there was no need to go again. George continued before stopping, it sounding like someone was coming up the stairs. He waited…

 

.

 

.

 

.

But there was no one.

He shook his head, wandering into his room. George went over to the bedside table, it taking a while for him to be able to plug his charger into the wall before even doing the same to his phone, considering that he was highly intoxicated. He gripped it hard, trying to stop his hands shaking.

George was actually surprised that he didn’t throw up that night; he couldn’t walk straight, see straight but luckily, he remained straight, which was good enough or him. He smirked before dropping the smile, a looming feeling that someone was behind him grew.

“You bastard.” George recognised that voice, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. As he turned around-

Someone lunged at him, knife in hand. He rammed George up against the wall, pinning him down with one of their skinny arms. George had no time to react, starting to kick his legs out and flail his arms before the knife sunk deep into his neck, a groan releasing from him as shock flooded through his body.

The knife was pulled from his neck, leaving what-felt-like a gaping hole, George sliding down the wall, paralysed by _fear_ , something he hadn’t felt for a long time.

“He grew on you, he spent too much time with.” The skeleton scoffed. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” He kneeled down in front of George. “He was mine! You took him from me.” The knife was raised into the air again, blood dripping onto the floor.

“Who?” George hissed, barely able to speak through all the blood clogging up his throat.

The man’s eyes went wide with madness. “You have to ask who? Really? Are you that inconsiderate?” He scoffed. “Jorel! I’m talking about Jorel!” He shouted the last bit before slamming the knife back down into George’s neck, it squelching as it ripped through layers of thick tissue and muscle.

George let out a breathless gasp, blood starting to run out of mouth. He tried to move his arms but they wouldn’t even shift an inch, not even able to move his head into a more comfortable position.

The figure left the room, leaving George alone. 

He sat there, panting for air, wheezing every time he tried to take a breath. Nothing was coming in; George feeling lightheaded and dizzy, starting to black out, his body going limp. He could feel the crimson liquid running down his chin, George just able to see how blood-stained his jeans and t-shirt were. His airways had completely collapsed, what-left of his throat burning as blood poured out.

“I can’t bare to look at your disgusting face.” The person walked back over, placing something over his head, George realising that it was his mask. “Look at you, your _despicable._ Who’s the strong one now?” He started laughing, George barely able to see him through the eyeholes. “You know that girl you were talking to tonight- yeah, I saw that happen! I’m sure she’ll be happier talking to me.” He yanked George’s phone from the charger, shoving it into his pocket, a disturbing smile on his face.

George’s vision was failing, everything starting to blur and melt away, pain throbbing throughout his entire body.

“You want to know why I _had_ to do this? Because you didn’t look after him. I watched you let him run across roads… he could have gotten killed…” His hearing was dwindling, George now staring at the ceiling as his thoughts went blank. “I guess it won’t be happening now… will it?”

There was a faint laugh, George just able to see the skinny silhouette stalk off.

“I’ve finally gotten rid of you, and now Jorel is _all_ mine.”

Those words crushed him, George giving up. His body compulsed one last time before completely relaxing, darkness swarming his vision.

He felt nothing, he heard nothing and he saw nothing.

He became nothing; just another disturbing thought of the past.

With one last gasp, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAAAAAAAAAAA. What do you think of that? Please tell me your thoughts, opinions and theories in the comments.


	13. I knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5537 words. Heeeheehe, 2nd to last chapter so nearly finished.
> 
> Written: 15th August 2018

Danny walked into the front room, rubbing his eyes.

He barely had any sleep last night, spending the last 6 hours staring at the bunk above him. There was no way he could sleep after what he saw; the image of George being ferociously stabbed replaying constantly in his mind.

He rubbed his eyes like a sleepy child, strolling over to the coffee machine. Danny tried making some but he could barely see let alone think about filling it up so, he had what was already brewed, tipping it up as high as he could to get the last drop out, the cup now filled halfway-up with the lukewarm liquid.

“Yo, Danny!” He recognised the voice, Danny flinching as Dylan crept up behind him. “You alright? You seem a bit out of it.”

Danny could barely focus, his mind jumping all over the place. It took him about a minute to respond, having to think about each individual word. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Dylan gave him a sceptical look, raising an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders, walking to his bunk to probably grab some weed.

Danny took his coffee and sat down on the built-in sofa, sinking deep into its soft clutches. He held his drink in both hands, just able to feel the warmth spreading throughout the tips of his fingers. He blankly stared at the ceiling, his eyes starting to burn where he was forgetting to blink.

The images of what happened last night kept repeating in his head over and over again; the blood squirting out everywhere, George gasping for his final breaths and _those_ hate filled eyes.

He was completely ignoring what was going on around him, unable to detach his brain from his own thoughts to join in with the others. He could just about tell who in the band was in the room, with one or two people missing. Danny glanced around nervously, the hairs on the back of his neck relaxing once he realised who wasn’t actually there. 

“So, where are we going today?” Danny could vaguely hear the start of a conversation.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes starting to close on themselves. He pushed his back even further into the sofa, his mind scrambling around trying to pick apart all of his thoughts.

George was planted in his mind, a small smile spread across his face as Danny remembered the half-hearted wave to Jorel. George was smirking as well and it may have only been miniscule, but it was a true grin, his eyes filled with mischief and glee. He was so young, barely a wrinkle on his face. 

Everything about him just seemed so smooth; the way he spoke, the way he looked, the way he acted, hell, even the way he walked.

He could have gotten so far in life; he seemed smart, not so sensible, but by the way he acted and spoke, he knew what he was talking about. He could have had a family; he _was_ going to have a family. It easily meant that he could have had a daughter and she could’ve been friends with Danny’s, _he_ could’ve even been friends with George.

Really, he was just an ordinary person in the end, not the tyrannical beast he thought he was.

There was a constant, annoying noise, Danny opening his eyes to see that Jordon was tapping his fingers against the counter, waiting for the microwave to stop.

It reminded Danny of the ‘other’ room, the memory of it coming back to him as he shut his eyes once more. 

The smell of faint alcohol seemed to re-enter his nostrils, it feeling like he was breathing in all the crumbs and dust once again. It was almost like George was sitting in front of him; his feet propped up on the coffee table, the lewd magazines scattered around his socks, making Danny shiver. The dark outlines of all the furniture were still around him in his imagination, Danny taking a weird notice to how rusty the fold-up chair was. 

The whirring of a machine interrupted his thoughts, Danny coming back to reality before twisting his head around to see where it was coming from, Dylan’s voice bringing his day dream to a halt.

“How many sugars does Jorel have? 11, 12, 13?”

_But its been 13 years, and George was done with him_

Danny’s mind started drifting again, his thoughts going wild. Jorel seemed happy that night, like there was nothing wrong, so why did it take such a drastic turn for the worst? Did Jorel have something to do with George being killed? Did he plan it and get someone else to actually kill him? Why would he do that anyway?

Maybe they started fighting, but what about? A girl? No, Jorel was on the dance floor while George was chatting up that chick. Was it because George refused to take the ecstasy? 

No, it was too petty to be that.

It could’ve been the drugs themselves! They could’ve turned Jorel violent and bloodthirsty for a moment but… they don’t have that effect and plus, he wouldn’t have had the time to come up with a plan to murder him.

And, Jorel isn’t that sort of person.

Danny sat there, racking his brain as he searched for an answer he couldn’t seem to find. Every small feature of that night was flashing with extreme detail, his eyes burning up again as he stopped blinking, trying to pick out the smallest of clues or some hint to help him understand what happened.

Was there a slight possibility that George might have lied to him? Maybe he manipulated the memories for his own purpose to get Danny to do what he wants. Even if he had done that, it wouldn’t explain him wanting to kill…

Danny let out a deep groan and rubbed his eyes, jumping out of his skin as a phone started ringing.

“Oh god! Who is it now?” There was a sound of fumbling. “Hello? Hello…? Is somebody there?”

_He could hear an extra footstep come from behind him_

Who really was following George? Was there someone even following him in the first place? Was it really _just_ the alcohol? Maybe he was sick in the head beforehand. 

Danny tried to shake the thought, but it just wouldn’t budge.

He didn’t know what to think or feel about that night, fear still striking him to the core, Danny starting to shake as he was worried that he might fall back asleep, re-entering the nightmare once more. Danny just couldn’t wrap his head around it. All he could think about was what happened that night and simply, nothing else.

“Who wants snacks when we stop?”

All the sound from around him was starting to register in his head, his eardrums feeling like they were being pounded with noise as it overpowered his dwindling thoughts.

He felt like covering his ears and screaming to tell everyone to ‘shut up’ but he knew he couldn’t, knowing that the others probably already thought he was mad. 

It just sounded like shouting from all around him, Danny able to feel the shaking of the floor as people walked around, the vibrations striking every nerve and bone in his body, making him let out a small whine.

“This meeting was meant to start at 9am, where is everyone?” The manager’s voice rung out. “We’re running out of time!”

George’s warning was then spoken in his head.

_**”WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME, ITS GOING TO START AGAIN”** _

Those words kept repeating over and over, it now being all he could focus on. The way it was said with fear, the way it was in a shaky tone, it just didn’t seem like it would come from a man so strong; from a man that was scared of nothing.

“Anyone for coffee?”

Danny lifted his hands to his ears, trying to block out the booming noise.

“Do we have any chocolate?”

“Should I go buy some tea? Don’t you like it, Matthew?”

“Where are the energy drinks?”

“Where is _Aron?_ ”

Speak of the devil, and sure to appear.

Danny’s eyes sprung open just in time to see Aron walking in, Jorel directly at his heels, his face sullen and his shoulders drooped.

They looked like silhouettes, one of them suddenly becoming very familiar, Danny now focusing even harder to try and recollect where he had seen it before.

His mind was whirling…

Danny’s brain clicked as his jaw dropped, a vision of that night striking him.

Vomit crept up his throat, his hands now flying to his mouth as everything finally connected together.

He knew who killed George.

It was Aron.

Aron looked like he was _proud_. He held his head high, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, acting like he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was wearing a large, baggy, zipped-up hoodie with tight, dark-blue jeans which were wrapped tightly around his chicken-looking legs. His hair was styled to cover one of his eyes, showing off one of his stretched ears. His skinny hands were balled up into his hoodie pockets, a now-stern look on his face. 

Danny felt his heart sink, the vibrations of the beats shaking his body. He couldn’t handle it; feeling like his insides were about to burst open. He couldn’t take it; he _wouldn’t_ take it, he couldn’t share the same air as a _murderer._

He gasped for breath, panic now filling him to the brim as the horror of the situation finally set in. Danny jumped out of his seat, sending his coffee cup flying to the ground, china shattering everywhere, a few drips flicking onto Aron’s jeans. He refused to look at the skeleton, sprinting towards the bus door before pulling it open to only slam it shut behind him as he started running, not even considering the thought of stopping for a second.

There was no way he would stop now, no matter how much it hurt. He took large steps, covering the most distance as he possibly could, gasping for air as it started to escape his lungs. 

After a minute, his legs were starting to ache like hell, it feeling like they had been set on fire from the inside out but he still refused to slow down, wincing with every stride.

He didn’t care anymore, he just had to get away from everything: he needed a break. 

The past weeks had been absolute shit, Danny hoping that Scarlett has had a way better time then he has. His wife and her were the only people that were keeping him alive at the moment and he felt absolutely terrible that he hadn’t called up since he left.

Scarlett would probably forget about him at this point, Danny believing that he had become a deadbeat father. It scared him; not wanting to be what he now was. Reese was probably never going to talk to him again- how could he have been so thoughtless when he loved both of them so much!

The thought gave him more energy to run even faster.

He would never come back to band; he didn’t even _want_ to be in the band anymore.

This had been the biggest mistake in his life, he should’ve just stayed with his old band. Lorene Drive would probably be his best bet now, so he could just return to his old life where everyone was happy and he didn’t have to deal with some demonic spirit haunting him when he hadn’t even done anything to provoke it! It would’ve kept Jorel happy- actually- Danny would’ve never found out about all of this in the first place, so he at least would think Jorel was happy. 

Danny turned around a corner in a straight-fashion, entering a long stretch of alley way. Smoke entered his lungs, implying that someone was already there but he ignored it, breathing it all back out into the cold morning air.

He slammed himself up against the wall, letting a sigh escape him. He slowly slid down, his back being scratched as he panted like a dog, severely short of breath. Placing his head into his hands, he continued to gasp, his ribs poking out of his skin as he tried to stabilise himself.

The smell of smoke got stronger and stronger, almost like someone was standing right next to him. A strange feeling then grew, a large, dark, looming shadow now casting over him.

Danny shivered, refusing to look up, not wanting to see let alone think about who it was. 

**“LOOK AT ME.”**

Danny slowly looked up, only to be met by two, blue, glowing eyes.

He groaned, realising who it was.

 **“MAN UP, YOU LITTLE BITCH.”** Danny put his hands behind himself so they were up against the wall, awkwardly climbing up till he was up on both feet, keeping his back pushed up against all the bricks.

He stared up at George, in no mood to back down from him. George no longer had his mask on, dried blood dribbled down his chin, staining his scruff. His eyes were blank, not reflecting any emotion apart from disappointment.

Danny felt tiny up against him, George towering over him. He looked up at the giant, feeling fear swimming around in his stomach. He gulped, but continued to hold his ground.

 **“YOU THINK YOU HAVE IT SO HARD, DON’T YOU?”** George spoke in a condescending way. **“I FEEL SO BAD FOR YOU- REALLY, YOU HAVE MY CONDOLENCES.”** He brought a cigarette up to his lips, taking a deep and long-drawn out drag from it. Danny expected him to breath it back out but no, the puffs of smoke escaping through the two holes in his throat, it blowing into Danny’s face.

Danny started coughing and gagging at the same time, feeling like he was about to be sick. He turned his head away from George, the man taking a step back to give him some room, Danny still able to feel those eyes burning into him.

 **“LOOK AT ME.”** He repeated.

Danny forced himself to look but did it unwillingly, dread coming down onto him like a heavy blanket.

 **“YOU HAVE THE LIFE I COULD’VE HAD, IN FACT, YOU HAVE IT BETTER. YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A LIFE; I DON’T. THE WORLD IS YOUR LOVELY, PERFECT OYSTER AND YOU CAN HAVE EVERYTHING YOU WANT AND DO ANYTHING YOU WANT BUT NO, YOU DECIDE TO SIT HERE AND SOB ABOUT YOUR SAD, LITTLE, INSIGNIFICANT EXSITENCE BECAUSE I’VE COME ALONG AND FUCKED IT ALL UP. LOOK AT YOU,”** Danny flinched as he felt George judge him even more than he already was, **“PATHETIC.”**

“Why don’t you fuck off!” Danny screamed at the top of his lungs before throwing a punch, his fist flying forward. It was headed towards George, George not flinching one bit as it phased through him, Danny’s fist _inside_ of his chest.

Danny’s face dropped, realising his mistake as George’s eyes darkened, his fists balling up tightly. He took a step back, moving his arm back to his side as George remained still as a statue, twitching his head with madness.

It seemed like he was about to explode; anger swarming inside of him like a nest of hornets, his sharp, pointy teeth bared like a lion that had just found its prey. He took a step forward, pushing Danny even further up against the wall, leaning down so he could shove his face right into Danny’s.

 **“LISTEN HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”** His breath smelt of a weird mix of blood and liquor. **“YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY THEN I’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE-”**

“Oh my God!” Danny aggressively pushed his face up into George’s, making the ghost move back slightly. “I don’t get why Jorel was ever friends with you- you really are a monster, Aron was right after all!”

George’s eyes opened up wide, the whites of them exposed and bloodshot. He took a step back, slightly cocking his head to the side, now staring at Danny in shock.

He was thinking; his eyes flashing with hundreds of different memories in a matter of seconds, a look of disgust on his face. Danny was trembling from all the adrenaline, trying to control his erratic breathing.

George was really the beast he thought he was and he had good reason to be scared of him. He was right in the first place about him being horrible and as much as Danny didn’t want to admit it, Aron wasn’t lying about George being an abusive and bad friend towards Jorel. Really, the only thing Danny could imagine was George forcing his authority by scaring everyone into it and constantly shouting and hitting people to get his own way. Danny thought George was doing right in the start, but he was now starting to doubt him.

Jorel must’ve gone through pure hell being friends with him.

 **“YOU ARE OUT OF LINE, DANIEL ROSE MURILLO.”** George seemed to suddenly connect back to reality, straightening his posture to seem more intimidating. **“I ONLY WANT ONE THING OUT OF YOU; AND YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS.”** He narrowed his eyes sharply, his pupils no more than mere slits.

“And I’m not doing it.” Danny hissed lowly, George not breaking eye contact. “You can’t scare me anymore and I will _not_ let you use me.”

George scoffed, shaking his head with pure and utter shame. **“FINE, IF YOU WONT DO IT- I WILL.”**

“George.” Danny tried to get his attention, slightly concerned since he wasn’t expecting that answer. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t respond.

“George, please, tell me!”

There was nothing.

“GEORGE, SPEAK TO ME!”

George stayed silent, suddenly twisting his head to the side to look at the entrance of the alley, his eyes widening before he disappeared into thin air.

“GEORGE!” Danny screamed, feeling distraught.

“Who… who are you talking to? Who’s George.” Jorel walked in, looking timid.

Danny saw his chance. “NO! You tell _me_ who George is!”

Jorel was taken aback, Danny realising he was scaring the poor man. “I-I need to talk to you." Danny tried his best to calm down but he was breaking. “Who is George? Who is he? He won’t leave me alone in my dreams or in reality.”

“What does he look like?” Jorel both sounded and looked fearful but surprised.

“Depends if he’s wearing a mask or not.” Danny started to look at the floor. "He’s tall, broad-shouldered, a look that could kill, narrowed blue eyes. Just a scary person really. White t-shirt, dark jeans, black jacket, designer trainers-”

“Stop!” Jorel’s voice rose to cut Danny off. “How do you know? Why are you doing this to me?” He started to tear up, using his hand to wipe the droplets away. “Who told you my friend died? I already get enough shit from Aron about it.”

“No, its not like that, Jorel. I wish it was actually.” Danny let out a small, pitiful laugh. “You’ll never believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“On one condition; you tell me everything you know about the man named ‘George Arthur Ragan’, you know, the one that died 7 years ago; the one that has been haunting me the past couple of weeks.” Danny said all of that to prove his point, to try and convince Jorel that this wasn’t some joke.

Jorel was lost for words, his jaw almost touching the floor. He shook his head and turned his back to Danny, walking out of the alley and leaving him behind.

“Come on, don’t do this Jorel, you’ve already avoided this conversation once before-”

“I have a picture of him but it’s in my bunk. Let’s go back and I’ll tell you everything there.”

.

 

.

 

.

“I can’t believe that I got coffee all over my new jeans!” Aron scowled, rubbing the stains down with some wet kitchen roll.

“I’m more concerned about Danny then your stupid little trousers,” Jordon rolled his eyes, “drama queen.”

“Do you think he’s okay?” Dylan piped in, his eyes all red from the weed he’d just been toking. “He has been acting a bit… _peculiar_ recently.”

“I was right all along!” Aron walked over and threw the damp paper into the bin. “You should trust me more; I knew he was mad and I’d also said that since the very start. I told you that he shouldn’t have joined.” He reached into his pocket to get some gum, popping a tab into his mouth.

“Can I have some?” Matthew hollered, Aron scoffing as he threw a bit over.

The door leading to the inside of the bus was pushed open, both Danny and Jorel quickly hurrying past, ignoring everyone else as they started to ask questions about ‘what happened’ and ‘where were they’.

Aron watched them like a hawk, noticing that Jorel looked like he had been crying, sympathy stabbing him like a spear going through his heart.

“I’ll go check on them-” Before he finished making his offer, he was cut off by their manager.

“No, don’t, just leave them be.” He gave Aron a stern look. “If they need to speak about something important or concerning, let them.”

Aron narrowed his eyes and stared down the hallway, watching both of them climb into Jorel’s bunk, the curtain being pulled shut for maximum privacy, Aron realising that he would have to come up with some excuse to make his way close to them.

An idea came to mind, a smirk making its way across his face. It may not be the most innocent, but he had to do what he had to.

Aron had no clue what Danny could do to Jorel- and he didn’t want to find out.

_‘I’ll find a way; I have to know.’_

.

 

.

 

.

Jorel shifted over to the corner as both him and Danny sat in his bunk, pulling the curtain shut. He reached for his rucksack, pulling it over all of his ruffled blankets. Jorel opened up the front pocket, gently sliding out a sealed, protected photo around the size of his palm, handing it over to Danny like it was an ancient artefact.

Danny felt like he should act shocked but he wasn’t, immediately recognising it. There wasn’t the same stunning impact as there should’ve been but then again, this was the 3rd time he’d seen it, Jorel now staring intently at him as he waited for him to say something.

“This is the one on the stand in his house, right?” Danny answered.

Jorel just blinked. “God, you’re not messing me around then.” He took the photo back from Danny, holding it with both hands, staring at it with blank eyes.

Danny watched him, feeling a tinge of sadness before shaking it away, all the horrible things George had said coming back to him. “Tell me… just tell me who he was.”

“Well,” Jorel thought for a moment, composing himself with a sigh, “what do you think of him as a person?”

Danny paused and thought, words failing him for a slight moment. This was finally his chance to speak and talk about everything but now- he had nothing to say, Danny becoming slightly anxious, his heartrate rising dramatically.

“Well, he’s scary… REALLY scary.” Danny looked down at his crossed legs. “At first I was terrified of him but he slowly started to grow on me. I honestly began to really feel for him but he’s completely changed, showing what I can only imagine to be his true colours. To me, he seems really malicious and violent with everything he does- that’s all I can really say. I’m just so confused about him now.” Not wanting to upset the other man, it took a while for the words to come out, Danny hesitating after every sentence. 

Jorel took in what he said with a sigh, his eyes darkening. “That’s what most people think of him, but trust me, he really is a nice person- or he _was_.”

Danny raised an eyebrow, giving Jorel a sceptical look.

“Really, he cares about the people he likes.” Jorel implied that George only favoured him. “He was always there for me, always willing to get into fights to protect me. Even we fought occasionally-”

“Physically?” Danny asked.

Jorel hesitated. “Yes.” He moved his hand to his face, using his finger to lift his lip up to show a scar from a split lip before letting it go. “We… we ‘disagreed’ sometimes; he could turn nasty very quickly. He had a bad temper, in fact, he had serious anger issues. Once he was set off, god, you would run for the hills but, Danny, you have to remember that he was like an older brother to me, so, I knew whatever he done or said was what he thought was for the best.”

Danny sat there with a confused look on his face. He just couldn’t understand why he would stay in what-was-portrayed to be an abusive friendship.

“I know what you’re thinking and it’s not as simple as that.” Jorel was glancing at Danny. “I’ve known him since I was young and there was no way I could let go of him. It’s actually rather funny- when we first met we hated each other with a passion.” Jorel gave a small smile. “We would argue over absolutely everything and anything. It didn’t matter what it was; what we were going to play, what we wanted to eat, who could have the ball, you know, like kids would.”

Unexpectedly, Jorel unzipped a larger pocket in his rucksack, pulling out a large, black bottle with white skulls on it. “Sorry, I was getting a bit thirsty from all the talking.” He also put the photo back in a gentle manner, making sure it wouldn’t crease.

Jorel continued after taking a sip from his water. “I used to think he was the biggest douche on the earth and it stayed like that for a while. Our parents were close so he spent a lot of time around my house. In the end, we were forced to be friends.”

Jorel shuffled so he could lean his back on the bunk wall.

“Once we had finally accepted each other’s existence, we got along. We’d spend every hour together; hanging out during lunch at school, sneaking out at night to go to parties when we were teenagers, like friends do.” He paused, biting his cheek. “Thinking about it now, there was always one thing that would send him into one of his rages.”

“What was that?”

“Aron.” Jorel sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. “They have never gotten along, even when they first met… that’s probably my fault.” Jorel smiled, the memories clearly coming back to him. “The two of them would never stop arguing; it was just constant bickering- even when I was there.”

Danny started playing with his hands, bending his fingers. “Why were you friends with both of them? They’re just as bad as each other.”

“Both of them could be lovely angels. George was always such a laugh and generally, every moment we spent together was just us joking and messing around. Aron cared about me dearly and would do anything to keep me happy and healthy. Though, they had their bad qualities, like, George’s temperament and Aron’s possessiveness over me.” Jorel then scoffed. “Aron has only gotten worse since George… ‘left’. I bet he’s listening into our conversation right _now._ ” He rolled his eyes, looking at the curtain.

Even though he was joking, Danny knew Jorel was telling the truth in a morbid way.

“So… I’ve told you everything you wanted to know,” Jorel turned his head towards Danny, “now, you can answer _my_ question.”

“Hmm?” Danny raised an eyebrow, forgetting about the little deal.

“Why do you know so much about George? _How_ do you know so much?” Jorel started to sound urgent. “How do you even know who he is? I’ve never spoken about him to anyone in the band and I don’t think Aron would either.”

Danny paused, thinking about how to respond. He knew that if he told Jorel the truth that he would be absolutely heart broken, Danny not wanting to think about his reaction. He would be beyond distraught; realising that the person he has mourned for the past 7 years was killed by his best friend. Danny gulped, getting ready to speak. 

This was for the best; Jorel didn’t deserve to suffer anymore than he already had.

“I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you everything but, I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

Jorel nodded. “I’m all ears.”

.

 

.

 

.

“Damn, they’re taking their time talking.” Matthew muttered, watching Dylan anxiously roll a blunt. 

“Stop smoking so much!” Jordon snatched it out of his hands, Dylan looking petrified. “I think its serious and you will _not_ be able to focus if you are as high as a kite.”

“But…” Dylan tried to come up with a reason why he should toke out, but he had nothing. 

Jordon continued to look at him.

“Stop judging me!” Dylan rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets, his shoulders tense.

“See, that’s one of the negatives of marijuana: paranoia.” Matthew read out from his phone, chewing on the end of a pen he found on the counter.

“I had that up my ass earlier.” Dylan watched Matthew spit it out, a grin on his face. “Anyway, you can’t speak that much about being innocent with drugs. I saw you doing lines of coke last night- that causes extreme paranoia! Oh, and don’t get me started on the-”

“Okay okay, you can shut your gob.” Matthew didn’t bother to argue with him, continuing to scroll through his phone.

“Aron’s taking a long time in the bathroom.” The manager commented, distracting everyone from what they were originally talking about.

“He probably got sucked in when he was flushing the loo.” Jordon pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

Dylan snickered. “Who calls it the loo, you British cu-”

“No smoking on the bus! How many times do I have to tell you, Terrell.” The manager scowled, turning his nose up.

“Hey, don’t call me that,” Jordon lit the cig and took a drag of it, “only my mum can do that.”

“Well I’m your mother now.” He filled up a glass of water to the brim. The manager turned back around and threw the water all over Jordon, his cigarette going out and becoming soggy. “I’m not letting you get lung cancer; you’re only 26.”

Jordon looked betrayed, his clothes dripping like he was a wet cat, still in shock. The rest of the people in the room were laughing at him, Jordon quickly getting annoyed. “You little fu-” 

A loud gasp came from the bunks, everyone falling dead-silent. 4 sets of peering eyes were now facing down the dark hallway, quietness falling over everyone on the tour bus, a rare occasion.

“Should we…?”

The manager spoke sternly. “Leave it.”

.

 

.

 

.

Jorel sat there, both his hands clasped over his mouth. His breathing was erratic; his chest quickly moving up and down as he tried to control his breathing. Those eyes were filled with grief but rage, his body shaking from a mix of shock and anger.

“That’s why I woke up so early last night.” Danny uneasily moved his hair, watching Jorel. “I couldn’t and still can’t stop seeing the image of his neck being ripped open and all the blood gushing out…” He shivered. “It was horrible.”

“And you’re 100% sure it was…”

“Definitely. I don’t know anybody as skinny as him. I know it was Aron, there is no denying it, especially not considering his slyness towards George the past weeks of tour…” Danny started to worry about Jorel, the Italian looking like he was frozen in time.

He slowly and steadily moved his hands so that his head was resting in them, occasionally twitching. A pained laugh started to come from his neck, and it didn’t stop.

Jorel just kept hysterically laughing to the point where he couldn’t breathe, to the point where his skin was turning blue. Danny knew that he should’ve kept his mouth zipped but he just couldn’t; he didn’t want Jorel to live on without knowing the truth.

“I’ve waited 7 years to find his killer- 7 years! I’ve wasted all my time crying when I should’ve known that the person comforting me was also the person that caused all of my pain!” He screamed the last bit, his laughing coming to an immediate halt.

He yanked his hair and pulled it, almost to the point of where it was about to come out, his breaths short and shaky. Jorel was violently shaking, sitting there in pure and utter silence, processing every word that Danny had just told him.

He then stopped, releasing his hair to only lay his arms onto the bed, Danny seeing the scars and tattoos littering them.

“I knew it…” Tears started streaming down his face, the drops dripping onto his dark trousers. “I fucking knew it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!!!!!11!! please comment i'm so lonely. 
> 
> Edit: chapter 14 will be released on the 14th of September
> 
> Edit 2: No!!! release date is now 17th September sorry for the cock up!


	14. 7 Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6151 words. I cant believe this is the last chapter! I'm so sad! Oh well, enjoy the final chapter then! Also Happy Birthday since it has started and ended on the same day but a year apart!
> 
> Written: 17th September 2018

“I knew it… I fucking knew it.”

The words struck Aron, the skeleton starting to panic.

Everything was going to fall apart; everything was ruined and it was all _Danny’s_ fault. 

Rage filled him as he sat outside the bunk, listening, it burning deep inside of his soul. He started to shake with anger, gritting his teeth as hard as he possibly could before they would ping out. Using his hands, he gripped the lose carpet below him, pulling it up off the floor slightly.

How _dare_ he.

Aron’s mind started to fire with ideas. _‘Who gave him the right to come along, take control and mess everything up! This was my band and my idea!’_ He stared at the carpet. _‘I don’t deserve any of this! I’ve been through everything with Jorel- splitting up with girlfriends, fighting with his parents, supporting him after the death of his so-called friend!’_

He banged his head up against the wall behind him. _‘No, calm, Aron. I don’t need to convince him; the evidence is right out in the open. Danny has shouted at me, assaulted me, punched me, pushed me off stage but no! He doesn’t get fired, does he? I knew we should’ve never taken on another member but no one listens to little-Aron. Ol-white-teeth has come along and messed everything up!’_

Dark thoughts started to rush through his head, sick ideas flooding him from head to toe. _‘I’ve already got rid of an obstacle before, and I know I can do it again. Anyway, its not too hard; all you have to do is act confident and pretend your not guilty- easy as that.’_

He pulled his legs up to his chest, grumbling to himself. _‘Everything is ruined now, and its all his fault. I’d played it off for years and I was never questioned about what happened, so why is all of this starting up now? Who could’ve told him? Because I know sure as hell that I wouldn’t and Jorel wouldn’t either.’_

_‘Could George be behind this?’_ Aron narrowed his eyes. _‘He was always trouble when he was alive and I’m sure he still would be but… he’s dead.’_ He looked around nervously, making sure no one was walking into the hallway. _‘Though, I’ve swear sometimes he lurks around…’_ He shook his head, the thought going with it. _‘Its just my imagination, there’s no such things as ghosts.’_

He could hear voices in the distance, covering up the sound of Danny whispering, Aron cocking his head to the side to try and listen in. It was to no avail, the man going deathly silent.

Aron groaned. _‘I know what I need to do, and I need to be quick. It may be bad but, I don’t care, I have to do what I have to do. I’ve lied the past 7 years and I can continue doing it. Anyway, its not my fault; it was destiny for George to die and he completely deserved it. God, Jorel would probably be dead by now if he was still around.’_ He shivered at the thought, hugging himself even tighter.

_‘Danny is just trying to get rid of me, but I won’t let that happen. He’s a maniacal, scheming, piece of shit that wants to see me crash and burn. He wants Jorel all to himself but I won’t let that happen. Danny cannot and will not make me feel the slightest bit reliable for what happened because I know I am not guilty, and I know that he will not make me crack.’_ He then repeated the words in his head again. _‘I am not guilty.’_

“Should I check up on Aron to make sure he didn’t get lost on his way back?” Jordon’s voice rung loudly throughout the bus, Aron freezing up.

The realisation hit him that Jordon was coming, Aron hypothetically shitting himself. On all fours, he crawled across the floor like an animal, practically throwing himself inside the small cubical. He rose to his feet, gently shutting and locking the door to lower the chance of anyone hearing him. Fear was bubbling inside of him, Aron taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

It wasn’t a fear of who was coming but, it was a fear of getting caught.

It didn’t matter; no one saw him. 

A wide grin spread across his face, fist pumping to himself. He felt like no one could catch him, that he was on top of the world. Now, he felt like nobody could take him down, that everyone was beneath him.

He was invincible to the world.

Aron’s eyes flickered towards the toilet, his hands reaching out to grab the roll of paper off its handle. He counted out a couple of squares before tearing it off, bunching it up into a tight ball. With good aim, it landed directly in the bowl, Aron starting to gag as droplets of water splashed out. He briskly pulled on the handle to flush it, immediately flinging his hands into the sink, scrubbing his fingers clean.

A sigh escaped him, Aron drying his hands off by rubbing them up the side of his trousers. He looked into the mirror, composing himself as he put on a straight and serious face, getting ready for the-

A loud banging noise came from outside the door. “Oi, skinny! You alright in there? We were concerned you got sucked down the macerator!” Jordon hollered, making sure that everybody else could hear.

“I’m fine, you knob!” Aron shouted back. “Can’t a man have 5 minutes to himself?”

“A man? You look more like a little boy than a man.” Jordon jeered.

“Shut it!”

Not to his surprise, he heard Jordon screech back to the others, Aron swearing that he felt the tour bus start shaking. “Don’t worry- Aron is still alive! He was just having a gigantic-”

“Tell the world, why don’t you?” Aron swung the door open, smacking Jordon right in the ass with it.

“Shit…” His voice droned off as he limped back to the front room, disappearing into corridor as he passed the darkness of the bunks.

Aron followed unwillingly, swearing to himself as he did so. 

An idea popped into head, his plan of vengeance starting to now play out. He stopped once he reached his own bunk, yanking the curtain open, nearly ripping it off the rail. Aron leaned in, on edge as he looked around before spotting his dark-blue bag. He pulled it over, unzipping it as quickly as possible. Instantly, without thinking, he pulled out a pill bottle, 5 pills spilling out into his stick-thin hand.

A smile crept across his face, Aron subtly dropping them into his pocket, continuing his stroll to the front room without a second thought.

An eruption of laughter then hit his ears, Aron harshly pushing his hand into his hoodie, his fingers curling around all of the pills. He wasn’t sure why or what they were even laughing at, but Aron was in no state-of-mind to join in- as usual.

He wandered over to the coffee machine, coming to a halt as he thought. “Who wants one?”

“Sure.” Jordon called out before everything went quiet, both Danny and Jorel suddenly walking in.

A dark atmosphere followed both of them, it flooding the room and suffocating everyone within it. It mainly came from Jorel, his eyes dark and puffy from crying. He refused to even glance in Aron’s direction, let alone look at him, the Italian’s feet guiding him to the corner of the room. Danny was directly behind him, pausing as he met Aron’s eyes. It almost felt like time itself had slowed down, Danny giving his head a brisk shake before walking over to Jorel, the two starting to whisper to each other.

Aron didn’t like it, not one bit. “What about you two? Coffee?” He made an attempt to break up their conversation, closely watching their reactions.

Danny swung his head round in less-than a second, a panicked look painted all over his face. It took him a moment to reply, deeply thinking about his response and also the way he acted. “Y-yes, I would.”

The skeleton just shrugged, pretending to play it off like nothing had happened at all.

“What’s up with you making coffee?” Dylan snickered. “You _never_ make it.”

“I’m a changed man, Dilly.” Aron gave a low laugh, on a bit of a high from all of his vicious thoughts. “I’m starting anew- it’s for the _best._ ”

“What happened to you? I think you definitely did bang you head in the toilet.” Jordon grinned, somewhat liking the ‘new’ Aron.

Aron just smiled, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long.

Using the tips of his fingers, he tenderly picked up one of the tabs to put into the machine, sliding it in gracefully. He pressed a button, a loud and mechanical whirring noise hitting his ears. It was then followed by a dark brown liquid falling into the yellow cup below it, Aron closely watching it. 

“God, we are going to have to write this moment down!” Jordon pulled his phone out his pocket before muttering to himself. “It’s the 23rd of June, 2010, and this is the very first time in 5 years that Aron Erlichman has ever made me coffee!”

Aron rolled his eyes, now watching another mug being filled up.

“Let me look at that list.” Dylan yanked Jordon’s phone out of his hand, pulling it close-up to his face so he could read it. “15th of July, 2008, Aron Erlichman smiled.”

Jordon giggled. “Be careful, we will soon be writing that Aron has got his first girlfriend!”

“I do have a girlfriend!” Aron answered defensively, starting to act like a child.

“We aren’t taking about Jorel.” Dylan and Jordon started jabbing each other as they laughed, both of them trying to cover their mouths up.

Jorel just snarled, his and Aron’s eyes meeting. Jorel immediately looked away, a hatred burning deep inside of him. Something stabbed at Aron’s heart, the skeleton gulping as he felt like he had just lost his best friend even further.

Aron tried to shake the awkward tone of the room, hoping no one else asked any questions about _why._ “Why don’t you two write down I took a shit this morning?” Aron continued to make the rest of the coffees.

“Yes, we will!” Jordon and Dylan started giggling, tapping loudly on the screen as they tried to write the information down as quickly as possible.

Aron saw his window of opportunity, his mind racing as he quickly counted all of the pills in his pocket. His heartrate had gone through the roof, everything seeming to slow down as he gripped all of them tightly in his hand, pausing as he tried to decide when would be the perfect moment too-

“Hey! Is this one mine?” Jordon came up behind him, Aron jumping out of his skin. The pills slipped out of his hand, all of them softly plopping into the cup on the right, Aron’s eyes large as saucers.

“Y…yes.” Aron gulped, trying to remember which cup was the spiked one. “Yours… is on the left.”

Jordon nodded, giving his thanks by smiling at the skeleton. He added his own sugar, Aron almost being sick with the thought that Jordon may have seen what had just happened, and the fact that he counted 6 spoonsful of sugar going into Jordon’s cup. Using all of his power, Aron stirred the coffee as quickly as possible, each time the spoon hitting one of the pills.

“You guys are getting too rowdy.” The manager’s voice silenced everyone. “There is no way you lot are going to sit down and have a civilised meeting so, let’s do something else.”

Everyone carried on talking, Dylan and Jordon coming up with stupid ideas, suggesting about going to the strip club, the manager immediately shutting them down.

“Hey, Aron.” He turned his head so he could see the manager. “I need you for a minute.”

“But… I’m making coffee.” Aron started to get arsey, worrying that someone else might take _that_ cup.

“Don’t worry, it wont take too long. Just come over and look at this.”

Aron turned his nose up, his mind racing. He stood there for a moment, pondering, before sighing. “Fine. Danny, your drink still needs sweetener in it, oh, and it’s the one on the right.”

Grumpily, Aron stormed over to the manager, it sounded like clouds of thunder were following him. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he saw Danny go over to the counter, oblivious, a smile now growing across Aron’s face. “Leave mine,” he shouted out to his victim, “I still need to put sugar in it.”

“What photo do you want?” The manager passed two bits of paper to Aron. “Its to go on the website for advertising and such.”

Aron was hyper-aware that he had his back turned to where all the coffee was, unable to focus on analysing each photo. He tried to relax with a large sigh, assuring himself that there was _no way_ Danny could know that one of the drinks was poisoned. 

“Umm… I don’t care. You choose; you probably know what’s best.” Placing one photo on top of the other, he threw them back at the manager, quickly rushing back over to the counter.

“God, you’ve definitely had a bang on the head.” Dylan sneered. “You normally stand there for a good hour choosing between them because you think that you look fat in one of them.”

“Shut up.” Aron rolled his eyes, yawning as he tried to act natural and not super stressed out.

Aron could hear some covered-up snickering, almost like a loud burst of laughter was trying to be contained. He raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to ignore it, adding a heap of sugar into his coffee. The cackling continued, Aron now becoming slightly concerned. 

He slowly brought the cup up towards his face, taking a small sip of the liquid. Sweetness splashed his taste buds, his long face immediately screwing up into a tight ball. 

Jordon exploded with the giggles, pointing at Aron. “I got him! I finally got him!”

He turned his nose up even more, but this time at Jordon. “You know what, Jordon? I like it this way!” Aron defiantly took another swig.

As much as he tried, he felt like spitting it out, it was just too sugary for him. His hands flew over towards a pile of biscuits on the counter, picking one of them up and pulling it up to his mouth before pausing. “This has nothing in it, right?”

Dylan let out a fake-shocked gasp. “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t waste my gear on you lot. Anyway, that’s my mum’s recipe so, you better like it.”

Aron took the biggest bite he could, a taste of ginger flooding his mouth, it starting to balance out the sweetness. “Very good; give my compliments to Mrs Alvarez.” He spat out some crumbs, landing on the carpet below him.

“Spray that again?” Jordon taunted, everyone starting to laugh and mock Aron.

Aron scowled, scrunching his fists up as he got more annoyed, biting his tongue to make sure no ‘rude’ or ‘naughty’ words slipped out. He took another gulp of his sickly coffee, ramming the rest of the biscuit into his small but gobby mouth.

The biscuits smelt… weird; it being oddly familiar. It was flooding his nostrils, the alcohol-scent slowly starting to register. He stood there, racking his brains before he realised what it was, turning his nose up in complete and utter disgust. 

Aron knew what it was; whiskey.

The taste was just too strong; Dylan must’ve put something else in them.

“Come on guys; focus.” The manager stood up, everyone looking up at him. “Where should we go?”

“I told you- the strip club!” Dylan announced, a smile on his face.

“No.” Jorel hissed, speaking for the first time, sounding deathly sombre. “Let’s go get some breakfast or something, just so we can get off this stifling bus.”

“Yes, brunch it is then!” Jordon declared, his head high, waddling over to the bunks before slipping his shoes on.

There was clutter all over the place as everyone started moving around; cups being slammed down on to the counters, crumbs being flung everywhere, shouting as people tried to restore some sense of order in the crazy room. The rumble of footsteps eventually died down as everyone started to file off the bus, it looked like a hoard of children running around.

“You coming, Aron?” Matthew stopped to ask.

Aron shook his head, a smile on his face. “No, thanks, I’m full on my biscuit.”

“Don’t get fat off it.” Matthew rolled his eyes before wandering out, along with the rest, only two or three people left.

Aron muttered to himself, shrugging off the remark, taking a swig of his coffee, shuddering violently at its sweetness.

Clicking hit his ears as two coffee cups hit the fake-marble counter, the skeleton slightly flinching. “There, Aron, that will give you something to do while we’re out.”

Aron was about to object, but he was then cut off by the manager.

“Do you want something from the diner?” 

“A bacon sandwich?” Dylan remarked, Jordon laughing along with him.

Aron turned his nose up. “No, I don’t, thank you very much!”

Everyone eventually left, Aron alone by himself in the large, empty, and quiet bus. He could go wherever he wanted and do what he wanted, Aron letting out a small, childish giggle.

Picking up his coffee cup, he finished it all off in one, large swig, the now-cold liquid sliding down his throat. Aron slammed the empty-mug down onto the counter, the sound echoing throughout the desolate vehicle, gagging as the sweetness hit him once more.

_‘I’ve finally won… I’ve finally done it!’_ Aron started laughing to himself, unable to contain his excitement. _‘No one can stop me now, absolutely no one. He thought he could take me down, destroy me- but no one can. It doesn’t matter who; it doesn’t matter how large or small; how strong or weak; I, will always be better.’_

He almost felt like dancing around the room, gloating in his victory as he became smothered in his own pride. Glory was all that was crossing his mind, Aron smiling truly for what-felt-like the first time in years. The sensation reminded him of what he had felt after ‘disposing’ of George, high and ecstatic from all of the adrenaline and endorphins that were pumping through his blood.

Suddenly, he clutched his stomach, a nagging pain quickly growing like a raging fire, it burning his gizzards. He leaned over, a groan sliding out of his mouth, hugging himself as he squinted his eyes. “Shit… what did Dylan actually put in those?” His gaze wandered over to the counter, staring for a good minute as he tried to stop his vision from blurring.

He ignored it, giving his head a quick shake before straightening his posture, the pain now travelling to each side of his body.

_‘I have to be there for Jorel.’_ Aron gulped, suppressing all of the discomfort. _‘I have to be there for him when his so-called friend is found almost dead, convulsing because all of the poison. I know I wont even have to say anything; he will eventually realise how kind I am and that Danny was a lying son of a bitch.’_

The skeleton started smiling at the thought. _‘Anyway, Jorel wouldn’t believe that someone as kind as me would do something like that.’_

A stinging sensation landed its way into his head, it feeling like someone was now pounding a hammer against it. He hissed in pain, cursing Dylan even more and his dodgy biscuits.

He took a step back, balancing himself after he nearly fell over, his hands reaching out to the counters to find at least one thing to hold on too, Aron’s breaths becoming shorter and shorter. He stood there for a good 5 minutes, wondering if karma had finally caught up to him.

_‘No, it won’t. I know I’m not guilty.’_ A wave of sickness rose in his throat, Aron forcing himself to swallow it back down. _‘I am not guilty, I haven’t done anything wrong.’_

Using all of his might, he forced himself over to the built-in sofa, pushing himself into the corner since it was the comfiest area in the front room. His head went limp, it resting on the back of the chair as he stared at the mouldy ceiling.

_‘It doesn’t matter what happens to Danny, he can do what he wants; he’s going to die anyway. I don’t like killing people; it’s horrible but I know I have to do what I have to do and, if that means poisoning or stabbing someone to death to keep Jorel safe- then it’s worth it.’_ He let out a weak and pitiful cough, all of his energy now drained from him.

_‘Jorel is amazing, and he does not deserve to have all these misguided thoughts because of people like Danny and George. All I’m doing is protecting him, it needs to be done.’_

A gasp was sucked out from him, another shooting pain ripping him apart. He was then left there; sitting on some dusty couch, hyperventilating, the only thing in sight being the bumpy roof as Aron laid back.

Something invaded his vision, a bright, blue and black butterfly fluttering around above him, Aron’s deranged senses making it seem like the whole bus was vibrating with every flap of its paper-thin wings. It danced over towards Aron, moving in circles before landing on the tip his nose.

“If I could move, I’d kill you.” Aron croaked, darkness now starting to cloud his vision. “God, you really won’t leave me alone, will you, George? Why don’t you just give it up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you told Danny everything, but I know it’s not you, you’re dead.”

Aron was half-expecting a response, but he heard nothing. “Oh, all quiet now, are we?” A small and sinister smile crept across his face, his head still arched up towards the ceiling.

All of his senses were leaving him; first his taste, then smell, touch, sight, and then, his hearing. He felt like he was floating in a void, a blanket of darkness and warmth cradling him, rocking him into a deep sleep.

Aron gave up fighting, letting his body relax and seep into the deep clutches of whatever was holding him.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Aron’s eyes flickered open, the brightness of the room immediately hitting him. He let out a small whine, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

It was strange; he felt like he had so much energy, like he could almost do anything. His stomach-ache was gone, along with strong migraine and strange dizziness. It was relieving, Aron glad that it wasn’t anything _too_ serious.

He yawned, nearly sucking the whole room up, stretching his skinny arms high up into the air before all of his muscles relaxed, bringing his hands slowly back down to his lap.

It felt like he had just chugged 13 energy drinks all in one go, his mind buzzing as he felt like he could easily run a marathon. _‘I guess whatever was in those biscuits must’ve finally kicked in.’_ Aron thought, lifting his head up so he could look at the clock that was opposite him.

There was someone standing in the way, blocking it with their large silhouette, Aron unable to see who. “Hey, can you move…” His voice broke off, panic flushing him as they became alarmingly familiar. 

Aron pushed himself back up against the seat, trying to stay as far away as possible, ending up in a weird-squat position, fists clenched as he got ready to leap at the intruder. He swallowed harshly, it feeling like there was a large lump of anxiety clogging his throat, leaving him unable to breathe. 

**“NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN, ARON ERLICHMAN.”** The voice was filled with pure and utter hatred.

He was leaning against the wall, the clock ticking away above him. His arms were tightly crossed, leaving no gaps, his head hanging towards the floor, almost like a rag doll. A dark and sick aura swarmed around him, Aron able to feel the rage and heat radiating off it, engulfing the room in what felt like the flames of hell.

“G-George…” Aron felt like he had been frozen, not a molecule in his body moving. Fear had wrapped its large hands around his small neck, strangling him, not letting him talk. It took him a moment to speak; his hands now gripped on to the arm of the chair, almost like he was going to fall off. “This isn’t funny- get me out of this dream! Just wake me up! You torment me enough every night.”

**“THIS ISN’T A DREAM, IDIOT.”**

“You’re dead.” Aron ignored what he said, trying his best not to look away, the skeleton curling his lip to try and seem more scary. He moved off the sofa, now on both feet with a straight back, standing his ground against the ghost. “You always thought you were the special ‘chosen’ one even when you were alive! Just go back to hell where you came from.”

The ghost lifted his head, it now levelled with Aron’s, Aron feeling sick lash at his insides as he saw his neck. Two, large, gaping holes were exposed, both a mix of muscle and clumped bloody skin hanging out. The red liquid was smeared everywhere; his throat, mouth, nose and down his chin. It was gruesome; Aron having a hard time holding back the urge to gag. 

He felt like he had been pulled back into the moment 7 years ago, claws dragging him back in time. George looked exactly the same from when he died; his hair the same, his clothes the same, the only thing missing being his mask.

**“YOU DONE THIS. YOU DEFINITELY DONE A GOOD JOB OF MAKING SURE THAT I WOULD DIE AND STAY DEAD.”** A twisted and pained laugh came from him, George shaking his head in shame.

Aron couldn’t stop staring at him, his eyes stretched open to the point where they felt like they were going to rip open, his hands starting to quiver. “This is just some fucked up dream.” He tried to assure himself, ignoring the fact that George was listening in. “I’ll wake up at any moment and _you_ will disappear.”

George raised an eyebrow in amusement, a smirk now on his bloodied face. **“YOU REALLY ARE THAT NAÏVE, AREN’T YOU?”**

“What do you mean?” Aron narrowed his eyes, now half-registering the fact he hadn’t breathed once in the past 3 minutes.

George just smiled, twisting his skull towards the door, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he clearly knew something that Aron didn’t. Aron growled, getting even more annoyed at George. “What do you-”

The entrance of the bus swung open, Jorel walking in. “Oh, thank god, Jorel!” Aron called out, the Italian ignoring him. He then remembered what he had been told, Aron now having to take it into consideration. “Come on, don’t ignore me, I can-”

“Aron? Get up.” He stounded stern, a look of exasperation on his face. “Stop fooling around.”

Aron started to both look and feel confused, his mouth open as he thought of something to say. “I’m right here!”

There was still no response from Jorel, the Italian continuing to stare coldly at the couch. “This is _not_ funny, I seriously need to talk to you!” He raised his voice, his lip curled, revealing his teeth.

“Jorel? What is wrong with you?” The skeleton started to become concerned. “I’m standing here! You’re talking to me. You’re-”

“GET UP, YOU IDIOT!” Jorel screamed before stopping, looking at the couch with… _fear._

Jorel then started walking towards him, cautious. “Come on, dude, look, I didn’t mean to be so snappy; let’s just have a civilised conversation.” The Italian gulped, clearly distressed.

“I’m fine with that. Why don’t we-” Aron’s heart dropped to the floor as Jorel sauntered straight past him, Aron swearing his brain was starting to shatter into hundreds of millions of pieces, George snickering at his disbelief.

Aron couldn’t even be angry, hesitating as he tried to understand what was going on.

He spun around, looking at what Jorel was walking too, jumping back in horror as he saw exactly _what._

Those scrawny hands went flying to his mouth, muffling a distorted scream that came deep from inside of his lungs. His arms were shaking frantically, Aron feeling his fingernails dig into his face as a wilderness grew even larger inside of him, tears pricking at his empty eyes.

“G-George… what is this?”

George smiled maliciously. **“IT’S YOU.”**

Aron saw his own body, sprawled out on the couch. Froth had trickled down from his mouth, a small amount pooling onto his hoodie. His complete body was dead-still, his limp frame posed on the sofa. The only movement coming from him was from Jorel violently shaking him, trying to wake him up as he was shouting. His arms just flailed in the air below him, Aron gawking at… his own body.

Heavily, he guided his hands to his face, noticing that they were slightly see-through, the semi-transparency scaring him. He wiped his mouth, it feeling wet from where he guessed the foam must’ve been, confused since he never remembered any of that happening.

“Jorel…” Aron walked over, pausing as Jorel started checking his bodies’ pulse, the Italian now trembling.

“No, no, nO, NO!” Jorel screeched, tears running down his short face, finding no heartbeat from the skeleton. “HE’S NOT BREATHING! SOMEONE, HELP! ARON’S _DYING!_ ”

Aron felt like his world had fallen apart, crumbling at his feet below him. “Jorel, I’m fine!” He reached out towards Jorel, going to hug him. “I’m fine-” His hands phased straight through the Italian, Jorel unable to feel Aron’s tender touch.

Jorel then evaporated into thin air, the skeleton still exposed on the couch. Anger surged through Aron, any thought of remorse or sadness drained from him. “What did you DO!?” He started screaming, turning around so he could face George.

George raised an eyebrow. **“WHAT DID _I_ DO? I’VE DONE NOTHING. YOU’VE DONE ALL OF THIS YOURSELF, NO HELP FROM ME.”**

“What…?”

**“YOU STARTED IT BY KILLING ME, THEN LYING TO JOREL, BEING DISHONEST WITH THE POLICE, CREATING THE BAND, LETTING ANOTHER MEMBER JOIN, BEFORE POISONING YOURSELF.”** George cynically remarked, still smiling. 

“But I poisoned Danny! How in the world could’ve he known?” Aron was baffled, turning his back to his body, feeling sick just looking at it.

**“I TOLD HIM, OF COURSE.”** George just shrugged, Aron thinking that he didn’t understand how serious this all was. **“I TOLD HIM EVERYTHING; THAT’S HOW HE KNEW WHAT HAPPENED ON THE NIGHT YOU KILLED ME. HE KNOWS _EVERYTHING,_ AND SHORTLY, SO WILL THE POLICE. I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW LONG YOU’VE FOOLED PEOPLE. I THOUGHT THAT DANNY WOULD BE THE PERSON TO AVENGE ME BUT, IN THE END, EVEN HE WAS STILL WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. I WAS JUST GOING TO POSSESS HIM AND STAB YOU TO DEATH.”** A short, wicked laugh slipped out from George. **“GUESS I DIDN’T NEED TO; YOU DONE IT YOURSELF.”**

Aron was just lost for words, a heavy feeling of defeat resting on him. This wasn’t how things were meant to be playing out; Danny was meant to be the one found not breathing, the one rushed to hospital in a serious state before dying- not him. 

Aron heard George’s depraved laugh, a mix of irritation and shock still seething through him. **“I’VE WAITED 7 YEARS FOR THIS; IVE WAITED 7 YEARS TO WATCH YOU SUFFER AND GOD, THE WAIT WAS WORTH IT.”** He sounded weirdly relaxed. **“DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO SIT THERE, AND WATCH LIFE CONTINUE ON WITHOUT YOU? DO YOU _REALLY_ KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE UP AT 2 IN THE MORNING, WATCHING EVERYONE SLEEP BECAUSE YOU CAN’T AND NEVER WILL? WELL,”** His smile grew even larger, **“YOU WILL NOW.”**

An actual chunk of Aron’s reality starting cracking, before it broke away, leaving a large, black gap in the floor. The rest of the room started to slowly rupture and fracture, Aron taking a step back so there was no chance he would fall down one of the endless holes. “George, what’s going on?”

There was no response, George just standing there, a grin on his face.

Realising he wasn’t going to get any help, Aron made a run for it, dashing towards the bunks. Just as he reached the door frame, it broke away, being sucked into the void violently, almost like some giant had ripped it off. Aron jumped, shuffling backwards, scared of falling off the sheer drop.

He stared out into the open darkness, his mouth gaping in awe. There was absolutely nothing out there, it seeming like there was no end nor beginning, everything deadly still.

**“YOU BASTARD.”** George mocked the skeleton, lowering his voice to match Aron’s, watching him. **“DON’T TRY RUNNING AWAY; YOU CAN’T HIDE HERE. YOU’RE MAKING THIS HAPPEN, BECAUSE OF YOUR OBSESSION. YOU MUST’VE OF FINALLY LEARNT SOMETHING-”** He cocked his head to the side, **“-WITHOUT JOREL, YOU’RE NOTHING.”**

Aron, standing as still as possible, continued to watch everything break. It was like a virus was spreading throughout the room, outlining the things it wanted to delete before doing it, moving from place to place. Really, the only things left were the floor below him and the wall behind him.

**“YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT ME BEING THE CHOSEN ONE. _THEY_ CHOSE ME TO GUIDE YOU TO THE AFTERLIFE, _THEY_ GAVE ME THE GIFT.”** George leered, Aron gulping. **“WE DON’T HAVE TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW, DO WE? YOU’VE ONLY JUST JOINED ME; WHY DON’T WE STAY HERE A BIT LONGER.”**

Aron looked at him with fear, it feeling like there was something caught in his throat. **“THIS IS ONLY THE START, ARON. I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU FEEL WHAT I’VE FELT FOR THE PAST 7 YEARS. I’M GOING TO BREAK YOU DOWN TILL YOU BECOME NOTHING.”** George’s fists clenched up tightly, Aron knowing what damage he could do and how strong the beast opposite him was. **“I’M GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN.”** He cracked his knuckles. **“THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO, ARON, YOU CAN ONLY PRAY TO THE GODS ABOVE THAT I FIND SOME SORT OF MERCY INSIDE MY HEART.”**

Footsteps started to become louder, Aron turning to see George slowly stalking up to him, the skeleton gulping. With every step he took, the floor continued to break, evaporating into the dark mist flowing around them. His shoulders were tense, up high, making them look even broader and larger. His fists were tightly clenched, his knuckles looked like they were going to burst out.

**“DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU WERE EVER HELPING JOREL WITH WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?”** The words slid off George’s tongue, it somewhat reminding Aron of a demon. **“WELL, YOU DIDN’T- HE’S DEPRESSED NOW, ISN’T HE? _I’M_ NOT THE INCONSIDERATE ONE, YOU ARE.”**

Aron stifled, unable to speak. Nothing came to mind as he tried to think of some snarky response, remaining quiet. He gulped, taking more steps away from George until his back hit the wall behind him, squishing himself up against it to stay as far away as possible. “You’re a monster!”

George ignored his insult, still striding towards Aron, bitterness settled deep inside of his cold, icy eyes, Aron shivering.

There was barely anything left around them now, empty space engulfing every nook and cranny, only metres of bare carpet left in-between him and the ghostly figure opposite. Aron didn’t even recognise the tour bus anymore, the dirty floor below him being a very faint reminder. The wall behind him was being eaten away by the beast of the void floating around both him and George, leaving a small amount of space for Aron to lean his head up against it.

**“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. IF ONLY YOU COULD’VE CONTROLLED YOUR ENVY AND JEALOUSY, MAYBE IT WOULDN’T HAVE END UP THIS WAY.”** He shrugged his massive shoulders. **“BUT DON’T WORRY, YOU NOW HAVE _ALL_ THE TIME IN THE WORLD TO DWELL ON IT, WON’T YOU?”**

“W-what…?” Aron started shaking, George swerving in even closer to him.

The man laughed, a foul and wicked cackle seeping through the large holes in his neck. With a grin, he shoved his face right into Aron’s, less than an inch in between them, their noses nearly touching.

**“YOU’RE STUCK HERE, FOREVER,”** George’s eyes glowed a cold and frosty blue, **“WITH _ME._ ”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can't believe this is over, damn. Next story might start next month??? I really don't know. Rather going to go for a mythical-sort story or just a normal one.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this will be good, lol
> 
> Edit- this is set in 2010


End file.
